


Ferocious | Darth Maul x Reader

by bonesaldente



Series: A Story of Luminous Darkness [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU-ish because reader gets integrated into the story, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27085894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesaldente/pseuds/bonesaldente
Summary: Part II to CaliginousIt has been a decade since the Naboo crisis, since you lost everything. You have created a life for yourself as a mercenary, working independently, yet always hiding from both the Jedi and the Sith - until a job for the Death Watch reunites you with someone you thought long dead.But of course, life is not that easy and your luck is short-lived. Between wild obsessions and dreading the end of the world as you know it, is there room for a functioning relationship in your lives?
Relationships: Darth Maul & Savage Opress, Darth Maul/Reader, Darth Maul/You
Series: A Story of Luminous Darkness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976836
Comments: 120
Kudos: 134





	1. An unlikely reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This directly connects to S5E14, 08:36 (Eminence)  
> There will be a bunch of cuts in this chapter because of... reasons. You have been warned

Allies.

There is something extremely satisfying about the word which marks the first concrete step towards his ultimate goal of power. Power and… revenge. 

These days, nothing drives Maul quite as much as his seething hatred for Kenobi, for the man who has taken everything from him: His legs, his future, and lastly, his one outlook on a life filled with more than just selfishness and hatred - a life spent with you by his side, the only person to ever make him feel something akin to… love? 

He didn’t pinpoint the emotion back then, foolishly believing he would still have time. Sure, he had used the word, but never as his own feeling - when he dared use such a word, it was possessively, as all things he ever felt.

The difference seemed futile, up until there was nothing there anymore, nothing to love, nothing to hate, even. All there had been was himself.

“The Black Suns have their lair on Mustafar. We should-” Pre Vizsla’s attention is pulled away from the sentence he was in the middle of constructing and to a small group of people approaching from across the Death Watch camp. In their middle walks a woman, the only one not clad in Mandalorian armor, wearing a hood and an intricately composed mask that obscures the lower half of her face in the place of a helmet. The strategic placement of Mandalorian warriors around her makes it obvious she is not a member of the Death Watch and not entirely trusted either.

An expectant grin sneaks on Vizsla’s face, and the woman tosses a blood stained linen bag in his direction.

“His head, like you asked.” Her voice is leveled and distorted by a voice modulator.

“Never one to disappoint, are you?” Vizsla remarks, picking up the bag and taking a look inside, though Maul’s focus remains on the woman whose eyes are glued to him. It is not unusual for him to catch people’s attention due to his vibrant skin tone, but typically, fear makes them look away right after.

With a wave, the Death Watch leader dismisses the Mandalorians surrounding her and beckons her closer while pulling out a sizable pouch of credits.

“Your payment, like we discussed.”

Finally, the woman’s eyes move back to Vizsla.

“Next time, don’t ask for their head. It’s messy.”

The Mandalorian barks out a laugh and his seemingly constant amusement in non-laughable circumstances is already beginning to irritate Maul.

“Maul, allow me to introduce you; This is Spectress, a mercenary we hire to take care of the Duchess’ political friends; Spectress, _Lord_ Maul-” Maul scowls in distaste at the Mandalorians borderline mocking use of the title, “is our newest ally.”

There is something unnerving about the way _Spectress_ is staring at his face; the force is tickling the corners of his brain that harbor old memories of a time before Kenobi. Quiet voices whisper into his ear, ghostly fingers tracing his skin.

With his mind, Maul reaches out through the force, and all of a sudden the woman’s force signature hits him with the strength of a ship jumping to hyperspace.

The aura surrounding her has changed, matured, but its essence remained the way it had been ten years ago. When he looks into her eyes that are hardly visible under the hood, all doubt vanishes.

It is you - These eyes are the same ones he’s seen for a decade every time exhaustion forced his eyes shut, boring into the deepest corner of his mind and filling it with such longing, such yearning, that some days, he would try to use pain to keep them open, keep himself out of sleep’s tempting hands, for sleep brought the nightmares.

“Allow me to speak to this Spectress,” he briefly weighs the name on his tongue, “privately.”

Vizsla looks taken aback by his sudden interest in their accomplice, but complies and gestures to a vacant tent. “I will make the preparations for Mustafar, then.”

As soon as the fabric of the tent falls back into place behind Maul, you whirl around and force him to back into a table, pressing a knife to his neck.

“What kind of game is this?” Your eyes are wild, hood having fallen off in the maneuver. “I will not fall for some mind tricks!”

“There is no trick,” Maul’s voice remains calm, though he can’t cover up the small tremble in it as he slowly moves a finger to push away your blade at his throat, but you don’t budge.

“It is me. I survived Naboo and-”

“Impossible! I saw you die! I saw you die over, and over, and over again,” the pain in your voice is evident even through the modulator, and it sickens Maul to his stomach to think that he is the cause for your pain.

“Kenobi…” He can’t fight the growl that accompanies the name whenever he utters it. “Kenobi almost killed me, but I lived, discarded like trash, abandoned. But I made a promise to not leave you alone,” he stops when he sees your hand shaking and your head turn away from him.

Ever so carefully, he extends his hand to graze the small part of exposed skin right under your eye. “And I will keep that promise.”

Your wide eyes meet his, and your hand slowly moves to your nape, preparing to unlatch your mask, finally let him see the face he has been longing to see for so long.

Maul holds his breath, eyes never leaving yours, when suddenly-

“The men are readying for takeoff to Mustafar, we will leave in less than an hour time,” Pre Vizsla bursts through the entrance of the tent unannounced, causing both Maul and you to jump apart like you had gotten an electric shock.

“Vizsla,” Maul does his best to control his aggravation and not show just how much he would like to choke him in this very moment. “Might I propose a deal with… Spectress?” 

He leads the man out of the tent. 

“If we intend to utilize the underground for our machinations, employing someone with ties to the criminal world will be useful to us.”

“You suggest we keep her in our ranks?” The man does not look convinced.

Maul’s tone is insistent when he answers. “Now more than ever, it is crucial that our plans remain hidden from the eye of the republic. To ensure that-”

“She doesn’t leak information to outsiders, we keep her close to us where we can keep an eye on her!”

Maul’s eyes flutter shut in annoyance at being interrupted, though he forces himself to put on a diplomatic facade once more.

“Precisely.”

~

An offer like the one Pre Vizsla is presenting you with right now is not something that would ever be appealing to you - under normal circumstances, that is. 

You glance at the man who claims to be the person you’ve lost a decade ago. There are questions swirling around in your head, doubts that you have yet to eliminate; you are not convinced that Maul might actually be alive, and, furthermore, stand right before you. But at the same time, you have no way of finding out the truth if you leave now, so perhaps, a more permanent position among the Death Watch would be an adequate exception to your rule of complete independence - solely a means to an end, of course.

The Mandalorian still looks at you expectantly. He doesn’t understand your dislike of allegiances and commitment: The man praises nothing above honor and the way of the Mandalorians.

“With an appropriate compensation for my efforts,” you accept, “that can be arranged.”

~

The flight from Zanbar to Mustafar is not too short to make you regret your decision to get more involved with the Death Watch - yet. The ship is also not big enough to get the privacy you need to confront Maul, if it really _is_ him. All you get are stolen glances from across the cockpit and more questions in your head that is already buzzing from the events of the day. Who is the second zabrak and why, in the name of the maker, is he so big? You’ve met enough zabraks to know that they do not grow much taller than human males do, and this one exceeds the height of seven feet, almost hitting his head when he entered the ship before you.

Your fingertips tickle with the naive desire to truly reunite with Maul; in your head you know it could still all be a trick played on you by Darth Sidious to lure you out of the hideout your identity as Spectress has become. In your heart, however, you can only see the man you’ve missed so, so much that your heart still hurts just thinking about the first few years after his _supposed_ death.

The ship lands on the uninviting planet with a dull thud and immediately, Maul leads the way out along with the other zabrak and Vizsla. 

“Wait,” you speak up, causing them to stop in their tracks.

“I am familiar with the Black Suns and I have a reputation among the crime families. If I speak to them, they may be more inclined to listen.”

Vizsla crosses his arms in front of his chest, but nods eventually. You can’t help but search Maul’s gaze, and it’s only after he steps to the side that you pass them and take the lead in approaching the Falleens.

It is clear they are hostile, just by the amount of men they have gathered in front of their castle.

“A battalion, brother,” rumbles a deep voice behind you. _Brother?_ That would explain some things, though you still wonder how Maul would have been able to find his family, if he never even knew who they were, let alone _where_ they were. But this is a mystery to be unraveled at a later point in time, as you now reach the Falleens.

“We wish to speak to your leaders,” you declare loudly over the sound of the Mandalorians’ jetpacks. Through the modulator, your voice always sounds more certain than you yourself feel, covering up small trembles and certain emotional inflictions.

The man chuckles darkly. “It’ll be your funeral.”

You tilt your head. “We’ll see.”

He leads you to something akin to a throne room, dimly lit, just like the entire planet. 

You post up at the very front of the small group, enjoying the look of recognition that flashes over the Falleens’ faces. 

“Mercenary… Why do you come here?” 

Maul speaks before you get a chance to reply. “We seek an army.”

“Fools. We are none of _your_ trade,” he gestures to you condescendingly. 

“ _My trade,_ ” you start insistently, “knows a good deal when it sees one.” You wait for the words to sink in before you continue. “And cooperation will be your best option.”

The man only scoffs, foolishly ignoring your advice.

“Dispose of them, keep their ships and weapons. Give me that one's sword, and I want her mask hung on my wall.”

Your group does not falter and the yellow zabrak picks up one of the approaching men, throwing him onto the long table, while Vizsla points his blasters at the other.

Menacingly, the men around the table start rising from their seats. Before you know what is happening, a hand- _Maul’s_ hand - wraps around your wrist and pulls you to the floor with him, thus allowing the other zabrak to throw his lightsaber - double bladed, you note - effectively decapitating all leaders except the one standing closest to you.

Once the weapon has returned to his brother’s hand, Maul pulls you back up, the gesture reminding you of the times you’ve been sparring with him, and going even further back, when you first agreed (against your will, back then) to work with him.

You gulp down the emotions and refocus your attention on the last Falleen in the room.

“Congratulations, it seems you have been promoted,” you comment coolly. “The decision is up to you.”

The man looks three shades lighter and slightly nauseous, but he forces a diplomatic smile.

“After careful consideration, we will join you.”

~

Flying back to Zanbar is a… much more pleasant endeavor than the flight there. The first steps toward the liberation of Mandalore are taken and the few other death watch warriors on the ship are visibly content with the success of the mission. 

You, however, have the incessant urge to space everyone aboard, just so you can finally, _finally_ , get a word alone with Maul. It feels so very unnecessary to act like you were strangers just to keep up an image, when you thought him dead less than 24 hours ago.

If only the ship had even one room that allowed for some privacy… How could you be so fortunate and so unlucky at the same time?

When you depart the ship, Vizsla looks like he is about to try and engage Maul in yet another conversation, but you decide you have waited long enough.

“Lord Maul, a word?” You quickly cut in. 

The Death Watch leader raises his eyebrows in surprise, but you sign for Maul to follow you.

There is hardly a place that isn’t bustling with Manalorians, but you know where they won’t be.

A small sigh of relief escapes you when you see the familiar metal of your ship and you finally face him once you’ve made it to the ramp.

You take a deep breath, then push back your hood, practiced fingers easily finding the familiar latch. With an almost inaudible hiss, the mechanism holding your mask in place releases and you push it under your chin.

His eyes widen, but you don’t let yourself soak in his softening gaze.

“Explain.” You demand, unmodulated voice sounding strangely raw even to your own ears.

His mouth opens but it takes a bit until actual sounds come out.

“I… it took nightsister magick and my brother to find me. And even then, I was - I was damaged, hardly functioning. Mother Talzin repaired my mind,”

“When?” You interject sharply, selfishly feeling neglected when he was alive all this time while you were busy mourning, hiding from Darth Sidious as well as the Jedi who saw your face on Naboo, and then having to survive as a criminal in the outer rim.

Sincere eyes never leaving yours, he responds. 

“A month or so.” You bite down on your trembling lip, wanting to remain vigilant but unable to stop your suspicion from disappearing.

Maul still stands at exactly the same distance as when you started talking, so as to not scare you off, you presume, but now you _stupidly_ want to close that distance.

You notice that his hand is shaking when he slowly reaches out and, at last, grazes his gloved fingertips against your cheek.

“Believe me, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I -” You are interrupted by a loud clunk from the ramp.

Already, you know who it is, but on instinct you still spin around with your blaster raised.

Staring back at you with wide eyes is what looks like a reflection of yourself some years back. 

You look back at Maul, seeing the way he freezes upon seeing her. 

“Is that… that’s not … Is it?”

For a moment you don’t understand what he is getting at, but then it clicks in your head, at about the same time that the young woman behind you understands the implication.

“You guys were- Oh, no no no-” She waves him off, cheeks tinted red.

“Loa,” you point at the girl, “Is my _sister_. I tracked her down some time after… Naboo.”

The girl still stares at Maul for another moment, before she picks up the crate she was carrying earlier.

“I was going to stock up on supplies,” she says meekly, “so I’ll just … leave you two, and… yeah, I’ll just go.”

Moving down the ramp, her body is shaking with a cough that pulls at your heartstrings.

Your face must have betrayed you, for when she is out of earshot, Maul asks:

“Is she sick?” 

Your eyes flicker to the ground while you try to find the words to explain her condition.

“She was a slave in one of the spice mines on Kessel before I found her, and she’s had breathing difficulties ever since. And sometimes, she gets very weak, or faints.”

You despise the pity in his eyes. “But she is strong. I’ve taught her to defend herself, and she has grown up to be a remarkably cunning, honorable woman.”

“She must be,” he mumbles, “With you as her teacher.”

~

Maul is unsure of how to interpret your actions. Do you still yearn for him the same way he has been longing to be with you again all this time? Or have you moved on from your past, including your time with him, and outgrown the need for his companionship?

 _He_ wants to run his fingers along your face, that, while more mature, still looks exactly how it appeared in his fevered dreams on Lothor Minor, safe for a few small scars here and there. Your eyes still hold the same intelligent sparkle that they did ten years ago, but now something else, wisdom, perhaps, lurks behind them as well.

How does one proceed under these circumstances? Maul is a refined schemer, a crafty intriguer, but matters of the heart are not his _forte_ , and understanding emotions other than rage and resentment is not something he was ever taught - or even had a desire to learn. Until you, that is.

His thought process is cut short when the deafening sound of several ships approaching the Death Watch camp catches both of your attention.

“Those are Pyke ships,” you remark with curiosity and Maul catches himself staring at your face instead of the ships. 

“We should probably…” You trail off and he snaps out of his immobility.

His hearts ache when you secure your mask once more, already missing seeing your full face when you speak. 

~

The Pykes joining his army this easily is a welcome surprise, and so is Pre Vizsla’s sudden keenness to further the assembly of it. 

The Hutts, however, evidently aren’t so eager, which the knife floating inches away from his head indicates.

Bounty Hunters start closing in from almost every direction, and a shootout ensues. Maul watches you in the corner of his eye, ready to use the force to pull you away from any danger: With no protective armor and unable to block the blaster bolts, he worries you might be at risk, though a quick observation proves the opposite to be true; bodies fall to the ground all around you, and your movements are quick enough for shooters to fail at targeting you.

Still, the growing number of enemy fighters forces the small Death Watch squad to retreat to where their reinforcements are waiting.

The Mandalorians do a decent job at pushing back against the bounty hunters, but a sudden attack from the ceiling catches Maul off guard and pushes him to the ground. Two bounty hunters attack from their hide, one accompanied by an Anooba that instantly jumps onto Maul, causing him to drop his lightsaber.

He attempts to wrestle the beast off him, but its snapping jaw restrains his mobility severely, even rendering him unable to retrieve his lightsaber using the force, until through someone else, the Anooba is sent flying through the air with a pained squeak. He looks up, only to see you already fighting the zabraki woman that started the sneak attack.

Both you and Savage are gaining the upper hand over your respective opponents, prompting them to throw a smoke grenade and run away. Savage makes a move to pursue them, but your raised hand stops him. 

“There is no benefit in going after them, the bounty hunters have no allegiance.”

Pre Vizsla sheathes his own saber, that very despicable smirk plastered on his face. “But you do?”

Maul follows your gaze as you look around the cave, surrounded by bodies, many of them sporting wounds that obviously stem from your weapons. 

“You tell me.”

The Mandalorian laughs out, then proceeds to move back to speak to the one Hutt that hasn’t managed to escape.

Making him talk is an easy feat, as was to be expected from a Hutt - put a lightsaber to their neck, and they sing like a bird.

After disposing of the slug-like creature, some of the Mandalorians still busy themselves with looting the dead bodies, something that is not necessary anymore now that they have an army and resources, but years of living hidden must have caused this instinctual reaction. Maul’s feet automatically carry him over to where he sees you around a corner wiping your blade, distanced from the others. 

Once you spot him, your eyes scan the surroundings, then you pull down your mask. Every time you do that, Maul swears he feels his hearts stutter a little bit - a strangely physical reaction for a man usually so in control of every cell in his body.

With your sleeve, you wipe off a few blood splutters that are nothing in comparison to your attire which is covered in several stains of blood as Maul notices upon looking closer.

“That is … a lot of blood,” He remarks.

“Not mine,” you counter, and the situation reminds him so much of Cato Neimoidia that he loses all previous inhibition. _Finally_ he closes the distance between you and crashes his lips into yours, crowding you against the wall. The feeling of your lips is familiar, yet so surreal as they move against his with the same fervor that he is feeling. One hand tangles inside your hair beneath the hood, the other sliding up and down your sides, wanting to memorize every little dip and curve of your body before he loses you again.

A small gasp escapes you when he tugs on your hair, allowing him easy access to your mouth, uncaring of the growing need for air and relying purely on his force abilities to warn him before someone sees the two of you.

“You’re taller now,” you mumble against him in the small time frame that you break away to catch your breath.

“You don’t seem to mind,” he retorts just as out of breath as you are, ecstatic that you so clearly still want him when your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in again. 

“I missed you,” you breathe right before reconnecting your lips with his, and he tries to tell you the same with the way he kisses you back.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind that is intoxicated with you, he senses a person coming closer, forcing him to pull away and signal you to put your mask back on should you not want your face to be known by others.

He steps away from you not one second too early; his brother rounds the corner the moment your mask is fastened with a quiet ‘click’.

“Brother, we are ready to depart in-” He does not finish his sentence, eyes flicking back and forth between you in an attempt to interpret the way you are standing a few feet away from each other awkwardly. It’s only now that Maul sees that your hood is almost off entirely, exposing quite ruffled hair. With a subtle flick of his fingers, he calls upon the force to lift your hood over your head further.

“We will be there momentarily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY, FIRST CHAPTER!  
> And this time, I even have plot prepared... Is it good? I don't know. But do I have it? I sure do.   
> I hope you liked this very, very chaotic chapter. I'll try to keep the majority of the story separate from actual clone wars episodes so that I have a little more freedom and not as many jumps in time, but to be honest I really wanted to start out during 'Eminence', so that's that.  
> There will be a few more POV changes in the next chapters as well, but it will mostly be you.


	2. The Takeover

The shadow collective, as Maul has chosen to name it, is growing steadily. Utilizing its current prowess, the Death Watch will take over Mandalore by ‘saving’ the planet from its criminal assailants. It is one of the ingenious plans that only Maul could come up with, not counting on pure violence, but deception - the psychological factors that go into a successful takeover, everything that matters apart from military power.

You watch from one of the rooftops alongside Maul while Savage is presented to the crowd of Mandalorian citizens as the evil crime lord the Death Watch has captured.

“I think it’s time for us to rendezvous with them in the palace,” you suggest, stepping onto the speeder.

Maul still seems deep in thought.

“I have got a bad feeling about Vizsla.”

“He’ll betray us?” The revelation is unsurprising. What _is_ of interest is when they plan on turning their back on you and the brothers.

“I do not doubt it. But in order to further our influence, we need to be in control of Sundari.”

*

Maker, you want to punch that arrogant smirk off Vizsla’s face.

“I don’t have an interest in other systems,” he dismisses Maul. “Your vision no longer matters.”

It almost hurt you physically to have given them the upper hand like this when it had been so obvious from the start they were going to turn on you.

Your eyes close in suppressed rage when you feel the cold barrel of a blaster press against the back of your head while handcuffs are secured around your wrists.

“You’ll regret this.” you hiss through gritted teeth, giving Vizsla the most threatening look you can muster up.

“I don’t think I will,” he laughs, signalling the Mandalorians to take you away.

You are seething the whole time they push you forward to the prison cell, much unlike Maul who seems strangely calm, a little inconvenienced at most. Maybe it is because he actually holds power that only few can compare to, while you continually have to prove yourself in the established community that is the underground. As a mercenary, image is everything - and right now, they are hurting yours.

You slow down once the Mandalorian guards guiding Maul come to a halt in front of a cell that is already holding Savage, who looks just as disgruntled as you, but the one behind you shoves his blaster into your back roughly, making you stumble forward.

“Keep moving.”

_Oh, this is just great._ They’re not even letting you stay in the same cell as the brothers.

You glare at the dark visor, but don’t argue back and keep walking, while doing your best to memorize the layout of the prison, for when you inevitably break out or get broken out by someone else.

They undo your handcuffs once you’re inside the cell, making a big show of locking the glass door. At least they left you your mask and most of your normal attire, safe for your belt and the contents of your pockets.

It is somewhat amusing to you that these experienced warriors seriously think you are disarmed, just because they have taken away your blasters and vibroblades.

“Well, this won’t do,” you mumble under your breath as your fingers feel the edge where the thick glass connects to the metal frame.

You quickly scan the area, but no guard is to be seen. Unceremoniously, you slide a hand inside your pants, immediately feeling the strap around your thigh with the emergency tools that you keep on you for this precise reason - it is located in a place where most halfway decent people wouldn’t check, and it has everything you need to break out of a cell like this.

You retrieve the tool you’ve been looking for, a small, inconspicuous stick, that upon activation turns into an automatic hammer. You hold it right onto the middle of the pane, looking around once more, then you activate the device.

It is not the force of it that is so effective, but the following vibration of the glass that eventually is meant to lead to it shattering.

The glass starts emitting a kind of humming sound, giving you time to shield your eyes right before it bursts into shards.

You brush some off your clothes, your boots creating a crunching noise when you step out of the cell.

_Good. What now?_

Your priority is your sister. You _told_ her Mandalore was not going to be a safe place for her, but she had insisted on coming along and you are not her mother and she is an adult, so you let her come - at her own risk.

Of course they probably locked her up somewhere here too, and _own risk_ or not, you aren’t leaving her here.

But perhaps if you can find the brothers first, they’ll be able to help…

You start running in the direction you remember coming from, jumping over the railing onto a lower level, then reorienting yourself.

They are… on your left? _No, I came from over there._ So… You huff in annoyance, cursing the prison for being such a maze.

You trust your gut and head left, rounding a corner and -

_Smack_ face first into Maul’s chest.

Both of you raise your hands in alarm until you see each others’ face.

He lets out a breath akin to a laugh, glancing at his brother. “Like I said - she doesn’t need help.”

You grin under your mask, until your gaze falls on the man accompanying them.

“What is _he_ doing with you?”

“Almec agreed to help us once _we_ sit on that throne and Pre Vizsla,” he snarls the name, “is no more.”

Your cold stare focuses on the man’s violet eyes. Already, you distrust him, but you can use all the help you can get.

“Almec,” you address him, “you didn’t happen to see the Death Watch bring in a girl? About this tall, skinny, doesn’t know when to stop talking?”

His eyes light up at a first chance to be useful. “I did, indeed. She is close to the entrance, maybe the guard could not put up with her… “ You narrow your eyes at him. “... loquacity.”

“Good.” You turn to Maul. “What’s the plan?”

“I am challenging Vizsla to a duel,” he responds, calmly starting to walk, you following suit.

A duel…

_That’s perfect_. You smile to yourself, always amazed when he is able to assess people this accurately. This way, he’ll earn the respect of the Death Watch and get rid of their leader in one step.

The exit appears in your vision and with it, the slouching figure of your little sister in one of the cells.

You speed up, and it’s only when the door unlocks that she actually looks up.

“ _You?_ ” She looks so relieved that your heart aches a little.

“Yeah,” you mutter, pulling her to her feet and feeling like you are taking care of the little girl you took in long ago all over again.

“Don’t even start on this not being a place for me, I know, I know.” She sighs, obviously regretting her decision to come along.

“I didn’t say anything!” You raise your hands defensively.

Loa freezes upon seeing the men waiting behind you, but quickly regains her composure - something you taught her: Never show potential allies you are intimidated by them, or they’ll take advantage of you.

You give her a pat on the shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Nobody really speaks on your way to the throne room, nervous anticipation in the air. You come across a few guards but they are swiftly taken care of and when you finally burst through the large doors, Pre Vizsla’s look of shock makes up for the inconvenience your imprisonment was. You look over your shoulder to make sure Loa stays behind Savage, like you agreed.

“I challenge you, one warrior to another. And only the strongest shall rule Mandalore!”

Maul’s voice echoes through the room threateningly, his angry face uncaring of the dozen blasters pointed at him.

For a moment, you don’t think Vizsla is going to accept. But then, his face morphs into a facade of unruly resolution and you know he will.

“So be it.” The words that settle the future of the planet are spoken more quietly than their gravity would suggest. “Give him his weapon.”

The lightsaber soars through the air, landing perfectly in Maul’s hand. Vizsla ignites the Darksaber.

“For Mandalore!”

The fight is brutal and aggressive, but most of all - it’s ugly. You are never one to not enjoy a good fight, but Vizsla does not fight like a man in an honorable duel; he constantly switches weapons and takes advantage of the jetpack that Maul doesn’t have by using it for evasive maneuvers and throwing grenades. He fights like a man in the middle of a war zone, not like a ruler defending his throne.

You smirk when Maul throws Vizsla to the ground with enough force to disable his jetpack, but the expression is wiped off your face when he is shot in the hand, dropping his saber.

You know well enough that this does not mean the fight is over, having sparred with him in hand to hand combat in the past - shockingly long ago, you realize now - but you still have to gulp.

Of course you were right before: In one elegant move, Maul pulls Vizsla’s arm over his shoulder, first breaking it with a loud ‘crack’ that resounds in the vast room, then throwing the now disarmed man over his shoulder through the air.

Goosebumps rise on your arms at the display of pure strength, your heart thumping fast now that the duel is obviously coming to an end - in your favor.

Vizsla looks badly beaten, unable to stand on his feet anymore. In a last show of dignity he raises his chin.

“Like you said, only the strongest,” he exhales, knowing what comes next, “shall rule.”

The darksaber comes down on his neck in a blur of blackness, and the next moment his beheaded body falls to the side, down the stairs.

“I claim this sword and my rightful place as leader of Deathwatch,” Maul declares loudly, raising the darksaber in the air triumphantly.

You didn’t miss the way Bo Katan’s eyes widened in pain the moment Vizsla’s life ended, and in a split second you know she will not accept Maul as her new leader.

While the first Mandalorians start to kneel, you adjust your gear, still missing substantial parts of it though you were able to get your hands on a good vibroblade.

“Never!” The ginger woman yells. “No outsider will ever rule Mandalore.”

Maul scoffs.

“If you will not join me, you will all die.”

You can barely hear the next words, mind shifting into ready mode and focusing on the body language of the people surrounding Bo Katan, trying to determine who is going to be a problem.

“Execute them!”

These words, you did hear.

Immediately, blaster fire splits the air in the room. The rebel warriors start their retreat, but not without throwing detonators at their former comrades. _This_ is why you don’t place your faith in others.

Gaze locked on Bo Katan, you sprint through the room, equipped with nothing but a vibroblade and a fierce determination to end the mutinous woman there and now.

She is soaring through the air as the last one to escape, but using every bit of strength you have, you leap up and sever one side of her jetpack while hanging on to the other one. For just a second, your legs dangle several feet in the air, your body held up by nothing but the jetpack that is exhaling its last few burning hot breaths before it gives out under you and the woman.

You both crash into the wall and the impact of it knocks the air out of your lungs, though you are forced to recover quickly since Bo Katan didn’t take near as much damage due to her armor. Rolling under a blaster bolt that misses you just barely and singes the fabric of your top, you deliver a kick underneath her chin, the only place not covered by those kriffing helmets. She is stunned long enough for you to cross the distance completely and take away the advantage she has with her long range weapon. A strong punch to her side has her gasping for air, though it’s almost inaudible through the helmet. She attempts to make you lose your footing by swiping at your feet, but you see it coming and jump up in time, using the momentum to drive the vibroblade into the exposed area between her neckplate and shoulder pauldron. If you weren’t as close to her as you are, you wouldn’t have heard the sharp inhale, but your proximity allows for less anonymity underneath the helmet and it fills you with a deep satisfaction to know that you hurt her.

One kick of hers makes you stumble backwards, followed up with a grappling hook wrapping around your left arm so tightly your blood supply is interrupted and your fingers release the still bloody blade automatically. You grit your teeth, realizing that if you hadn’t allowed yourself the brief moment of indulgence, you probably would have been able to finish her right there.

With a newfound fervor you yank the rope, lifting your leg to step onto it. The other woman falls forward and you use the new opening by pulling even harder and kicking her head back so hard, her helmet is pushed up over her chin. A groan can be heard and you think you’ve almost won, but in that moment she throws a smoke detonator right at your feet and you are enveloped in a cloud of thick smoke, your eyes automatically squeezing shut. You hiss in pain, immediately realizing that normal smoke grenades are not supposed to sting this much in that little time. Your eyes water and you try to blink the tears away, desperate to stop the woman from escaping, but it’s too late.

You wave your hand in front of your face to clear the area around your head from the smoke.

Frustration seeps through you. If you had had your usual equipment at hand -

Finally, you make it out of the smoke, your eyes still burning like hell and your vision going blurry every few seconds.

“What is _in_ that smoke?”

One of the helmeted men who stayed behind speaks up. “It’s a custom mixture of smoke composition and special tear gas that we’ve been working on.”

_Oh, fantastic._ And you’ve been right in the center of the detonation, too.

Wiping away the tears that just keep on running over your face, you scowl, trying to mask the pain you’re in by feigning annoyance. Maul is by your side in no time, taking your face in between his hands and tilting your head back to examine your eyes. His frowning face blurs to the point of being unrecognizable and white hot panic fuels your body at the prospect of losing your eyesight, even temporarily.

“Almec,” Maul begins speaking calmly, his still presence a stark contrast to how you are feeling. “Why don’t you inform the people of their change in leadership?” The question is rhetorical, of course. “Tell them, their _duchess_ slaughtered Pre Vizsla and with his dying breath,” his tone is mockingly dramatical, “he asked _you_ be made Prime Minister.”

“Of course, Master,” he bows subserviently, hurrying out of the throne room.

“You,” he addresses someone you can’t see. “Tell me everything you know of that gas mixture of yours.” There is a suppressed fury that underlies his tone, but all you can concentrate on is the fire that is burning inside your eyeballs. “Apprentice, have someone lead you and her to the medbay.” The meaningful moment of silence that follows tells you there is a silent exchange going on between them that you’ve been able to observe multiple times in the very short time you’ve seen them together.

Now you can only feel it in the way Maul shifts slightly before you.

His thumb wipes another tear from your face while he places a hand on your back, gently guiding you to where heavy footsteps get closer to you, a blurred shape that must be Savage entering your very limited field of vision. He loosely takes a hold of your forearm, helping you find your way to the exit without making you stumble around the room and completely lose your dignity. There are more sets of feet accompanying you, one of which must be Loa judging by the lightness of the steps, the other a member of the death watch that now serves not only Maul, but also you.

Once out of earshot of the crowd in the throne room, you let loose a string of curse words that only Loa is capable of understanding.

_“How bad is it?”_ She asks from your left in the same language.

_“Don’t worry about me,”_ she can’t hear how shaky your voice actually is through the modulator. _“It’ll wear off.”_

At least that’s what you hope, but you don’t tell her that. If the searing pain is any indication, the effects may be more serious than you let on, but just the thought of that makes you break out in cold sweat, so you push it to the back of your mind.

A splitting headache is kicking in from the exertion of squinting for the past few minutes and maybe also as a side effect of the gas. You finally give up on keeping your eyes open, trusting your sister and Savage, who by extension may also be considered a brother, enough to guide you through the palace safely.

The footsteps around you slow down, and the sound of a door swooshing open tells you you have reached your destination.

“You stay out,” Savage’s deep baritone commands the people around you, thankfully. You’ve shown too much weakness already.

You force your eyes to open once more when you enter the room that smells like disinfectant mixed with fresh laundry. _Of course_ the pacifist ruler would keep her medical facilities in good condition, you don’t know why you expected a grimmer place.

The bright light hitting your eyes causes you to wince and immediately close them again, feeling as though they are set on fire all over.

This is not going to be fun.

*

“Can you take this thing off?”

You glare at the man for the fracture of a second that it is bearable for you to do so. “I can breathe without it, if that’s what you mean.”

You can feel him move to touch the mask, but snatch his wrist before he can.

“I didn’t say you could remove it.”

“It would be easier if you let me,” he argues back. A low growl comes from Savage who is posted up on your right.

“If you are any good at what you do, you’ll manage to work around it.” You press out through clenched teeth, just wanting him to start relieving you of the throbbing behind your eyelids.

“Fine,” the doctor grunts, utterly disregarding your rank, as fresh as it may be. “I’ll apply eye drops to eliminate any remnants of the substance, though those don’t account for possible damage that’s already been done.”

“Just get on with it,” you hiss, increasingly agitated.

There’s some rummaging to your left, then cold fingers pry your one eye open and quickly put in a cool liquid that does the exact opposite of what you were hoping for - the discomfort doubles and you all but howl in pain, jerking away from him to clutch your temple where it feels like needles are piercing through your skin.

“What the-” Before you are finished, he forces the liquid into your other eye too, making you bite your lip so hard you draw blood and add his name, that you don’t actually know, to your mental hit list.

“In an hour or so we’ll know if there are any longer lasting effects, so stay here until then,” You truly, deeply despise the way he orders you around as if you are _not_ one of Mandalore’s new rulers. You _also_ hate the fact that you are not there right now, in these first few hours of Maul’s rule.

The door slides shut again.

“He’s gone,” Loa informs you, prompting you to rip off the mask as fast as you can, your panicked breathing only having been made worse because of it. You sigh in relief when the fresh air fills your lungs, immediately feeling better and not even caring that you just added one more person to the small circle of people who know the face that goes with the name _Spectress_.

“Woah-” There is a sound you can’t quite place, followed by a deep “What are you doing?”

You force your eyes open for a second, snorting when you can make out your little sister, who, while taller than you, is dwarfed by the zabrak next to her, trying to cover his eyes.

_That’s what years of living in secrecy will do to you._

“Loa, it’s fine,” you wave off, placing your hand over your eyes again to block out the light.

She sounds incredulous when she answers. “Are you for real? We’ve spent years of keeping your identity hidden, how can you just-”

“ _I said_ it’s fine,” you cut her off, then switch to your mother tongue that she, as much as you hate to admit it, speaks much better than you. _“We are no longer on our own as a family, it’s time you get used to the concept of having a…”_ You search for the word but can’t remember for the life of you.

“ _Have a what? Father?”_

_“No, why would- I mean…”_ you snap your fingers impatiently.

“ _Brother? Uncle?”_

_“Yes!”_ You exhale. “ _I was thinking of brother, but either one will do. Whatever. Just start opening yourself up to the idea, it’ll be good for you.”_

You don’t hear a sound from her next, but finally she sighs and responds in Basic. “Just don’t make me an _aunt,_ yeah?”

Almost choking on your own saliva, you cuss her out.

“You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?”

You don’t have to see her face to know she is rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a kid, you don’t get to discipline me anymore.”

“I wouldn’t push it,” you mumble under your breath, eliciting a chuckle so quiet you almost don’t hear it from Savage who has been listening to the two of you bicker back and forth.

What you wouldn’t give to be able to look at them normally right now, the small family you have found for yourself after being stranded on your own for some years in your life that have been… dark.

For now you’re content enough knowing two are by your side and Maul is sitting on the throne he deserves and beginning his rule that marks the starting point of a new era in your life.

_For now_.

As soon as you are recovered enough to do so, you will seek out Bo Katan. You’ll find her, find Kenobi, find the people _he_ cares about.

You have a hit list, and it’s growing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone!  
> This chapter was all done about a week ago, then I decided to completely change it and rewrite the second half, which forced me to also delete everything I wrote out for chapter three, and... yeah. It is much better now, though, so I hope you enjoyed it.  
> I received so many lovely comments on the last chapter, it made my whole week!  
> Enjoy your day, you guys, and always stay safe!


	3. Internal Issues

You are released from the medical wing not one, but six hours later. Night has fallen over Sundari which alleviates your condition considerably. In the dark hallways that are just illuminated by the sparse light the city outside provides, you can even open your eyes all the way and see almost normally. It is soothing to be left alone for once, though your heart aches for the comfort of a certain zabrak that is in the process of utterly overworking himself.

First, you debate whether you should comm him or not - after all, this is a crucial time for his and your future. But then you realize you don’t even have quarters yet, you can’t use the holomap saved in your comlink because its light hurts your eyes, and you could really, really use some solace right this moment.

Your heart skips a beat when he answers right away.

“Are you all right?”

“I just got released and I-“

“I’ll be right there,” he interrupts you, not even giving you a chance to voice the demand he instantly understood.

Sighing, you lean against the wall behind you, the exhaustion of the day finally taking its toll on you. So much has happened that your mind is struggling to keep up.

Footsteps that are distinctly metal approach rapidly and a small smile graces your lips.

You haven’t bothered to even put the mask back on, considering the palace is basically deserted at this time and the shadows hide your face well enough.

He is still several feet away from you when you feel his invisible grip around you pulling you closer with a gentleness you didn’t know the Force could be used for.

“How are you feeling?” He wastes no time in cupping your face and checking your eyes in a very similar way to how he did just a few hours prior.

You are well aware that his eyes work much better in the dark than a human’s, just like you are aware of the fact that your eyes are terribly bloodshot, so you try to look away from his prying gaze.

“Tired,” you mumble. _Angry. Beaten. Frustrated. Vengeful._

He understands what is left unsaid.

“Come.”

The way to your new quarters, _his_ new quarters is much easier than you thought. Maybe it’s his mere presence next to you, maybe he is subtly using the force to give you the energy you need.

Whatever it is, once the door shuts behind you and you are immediately blinded by lights that turn on automatically, it shatters once more.

You are scared. Shaking right where you entered the room, sweaty hands forming fists and the fear creeping up over your shoulder, pressing its cold fingers over your nose and mouth so you can’t breathe.

Maul has shut the lights off right away, but even the dim light shining through the curtains is making white spots appear in your vision. How are you supposed to _ever_ be a threat to anyone if a simple flashlight would be enough to paralyze you?

It’s too much. Too much, too much, and there’s no escape from what has already been done.

For a moment you are frozen in absolute dissociation from your body, then it comes crashing down on you.

A sob escapes you and you stumble back until you collide with the wall.

“Oh Maker, what if… Maul I-“ You can hardly make out his form rushing to your side while you struggle to voice what is going on inside your head.

“Come on, no. Look at me, look at me,” A hand is on your shoulder, steadying you, but it only makes you feel more trapped.

“No, no, _no_ , you don’t understand! I …“ You gasp for air while the panic threatens to swallow you whole.

“I can’t, I can’t lose my sight!” Finally, the words come back to you. “I have _nothing_ , you understand? _Nothing_ , no force to guide me, no special senses that can warn me, I _just have myself_. And this… This! What I do, it’s … it’s breaking me down slowly!” You laugh breathlessly. Your life is nothing but a sick joke some all-mighty being thought of in a flash of malevolence.

“You’re spiralling,” He warns you cautiously.

“Yes I am!” You snap. “Did you know that whenever I have to cough, or sneeze, or breathe just _a little_ too sharply, it feels like my guts are tearing apart? Because I _once_ got stabbed on a job and I did _not_ have the force or even the credits to afford proper care, so it never healed properly.” You have stepped away from him, feeling cornered from all directions.

“My entire body is littered in scars that will _never_ go away and none of them were worth it, do you hear me? Not _one_ was a price worth paying for, what? Some credits?” You break down crying, falling to your knees and burying your face in your hands. “I don’t even… I can’t- oh, please, please,” you don’t even know what you are begging for, but the next thing you know is you are pulled into a warm chest and surrounded by warmth. “Maybe that’s just how I am,” you whisper. “Self destructive.”

There are no more words exchanged over the next minutes. He just holds you to him quietly, listening to your sobs slowly grow fewer and your racing heart fall back into its normal rhythm.

“You know,” With the way you are huddled on the floor, you can feel his chest vibrating when he starts talking in that quiet, sincere voice that you’ve missed so much. “You are remarkable, not only as a combatant, not as a tool for power, but you are strong. Your determination, your willpower, your mind are what make your value, not your physical abilities. There is a spark in you I have never encountered in a person before, it’s...” he trails off and you hold your breath. “It’s the reason that I…” His muscles around you tense and you finally raise your head to look into his glowing eyes. You see the struggle behind them, how much he wants to say something he has been drilled into denying.

He closes his eyes and bows his head until his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“I _love_ you.”

He uses the word like it is foreign to him and the way he doesn’t dare look into your eyes now tells you that he, too, is afraid - afraid of rejection, afraid of being abandoned, afraid of not being worthy anymore.

Your breath hitches a little and you are snapped out of the downwards spiral of your thoughts. Never did you expect him to tell you this, not back then, not now, especially not after you have proven yourself to be so pathetically weak minded. Or are you?

_Would_ someone like Maul even be capable of harboring emotions of this kind for someone weak?

You are too tired to contemplate this any further, and your voice is hoarse when you finally answer him.

“You already know I feel the same way.”

The only response you get is the hand on the back of your head tightening almost unnoticeably.

The steady thrum of his hearts where your head leans against his chest could easily lull you to sleep if you let it. Your body feels as though you haven’t slept in days and when you think about it, you actually haven’t; the planning for the takeover of Mandalore has taken up several days in advance and the last couple of nights before your departure were spent crouched over strategic maps and resource calculations.

Maul was no better. If you haven’t slept, then you already know he hasn’t either and he must be _exhausted_ right now.

Your thoughts drift off and he seems to notice, scooping you up and carrying you the few steps over to the bed. With your last bit of energy, you pat the empty space next to you in a silent invitation.

A few seconds pass, then the mattress dips next to you and an arm is lightly draped across your waist. You’re already half asleep, but the last thing you remember doing before giving in to the sweet calls of sleep is reaching back in return and pulling yourself closer.

It’s hard to breathe. The grey walls around you close in on you slowly while the room fills with smoke.

_Not again!_

You look around panickedly while the smoke fills your lungs mercilessly. _There,_ a door, but _Maker_ it is hard to move. It’s almost as if you’re wearing magnetized shoes with the way you struggle to even lift your feet from the ground, each step draining you more and more until you finally manage to wrap your fingers around the doorknob that immediately warms your cold fingers pleasantly.

A sudden wave of fear stops you in your movements to open the door, paralyzing you for no reason other than your instincts shouting at you to keep the door shut, to stay in the room that is growing smaller and smaller steadily and threatening to either crush or suffocate you.

You don’t know _why_ you are afraid of opening that door. You know you want what awaits you on the other side, whatever it is is exuding comfort and familiarity in a hostile environment.

_But what if it’s a deception?_

Of course it could be a trap, and instead of the warmth that is so tempting you will be greeted by the greedy hands of darkness. Yes, you can see it before your eyes; dark creatures chasing you, your breath running out, cruel cackling and- _no!_

Your hand flinches away from the knob almost as if it has been burned. Having breathed the smoke for too long you start coughing, but surprisingly, it dissipates and the walls halt their movement.

You are left in a completely neutral, empty room, with nothing but the door.

It would be easy to stay here, you tell yourself, and so much more secure, too. But then again, you feel yourself gravitate toward the door for some reason. Maybe there _is_ something behind it that’s worth seeing, that’s worth the risk of stepping into the unknown.

Without overthinking, you stretch out your hand again, feeling the warm metal under your fingers, then twisting the knob before you can change your mind all over.

The moderate lighting immediately disappears just like the floor under your feet and for a moment, you are floating in blackness. Then, your eyes snap open and you gasp for air like a shipwrecked stranded on the beach until you get a grasp of reality once more.

_It was a dream._ You are no stranger to bizarre dreams, but this one was different, or to put it more accurately; _you_ are different. But how? It somehow feels like something inside you changed, but as much as you try to pinpoint the foreign feeling, you cannot.

Still, you are exhausted, but also terribly uncomfortable after not having changed out of your clothes before going to sleep earlier. Also, you’re _hot_. With a tiny groan, you attempt to roll onto your side, but an arm wrapped tightly around your waist is locking you in place. It’s only now that you realize you are not actually lying on the mattress anymore and have instead settled for sprawling out across the crimson zabrak next to you - well, under you, technically.

Maul stirs in his sleep, his hold on you growing even tighter - whether it’s protectiveness or possessiveness, you don’t know; all you know is with the way you’re lying, your face is buried in the crook of his neck perfectly and his typically faint scent that’s always been somewhat reminiscent of smoke and earthiness is flooding your senses.

A wave of affection overcomes you when you raise your head a little more, studying Maul’s sleeping face; the way his nose scrunches up a little every now and then, how his lips are parted just slightly while his mind is far off, dreaming of things you couldn’t begin to imagine. Or so you think.

The moment you feel the emotion filling your chest, his own features soften and his thumb starts rubbing small circles on your back. When your muscles relax under the touch, so do his. At first, you are taken by surprise, but then, everything falls into place.

When your dream-you opened the door, what you really opened was your mind. You have felt Maul’s presence and mentally opened yourself to him - again. That’s why you feel different: For years upon years you have worked on creating mental walls to keep Jedi and Sith alike out, but now you’ve allowed for a little opening, just for him.

And asleep, he must be more prone to your emotional projection.

A smile makes its way on your face when you consider the possibility that he could be feeling the same kind of adoration as you in this moment.

Very carefully, you unwind yourself from his grasp. All you want to do is shed some of the layers you are wearing, as well as some weapons that you probably shouldn’t have slept with in the first place.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, you undress until you are left in only your undershirt and your pants that have now been emptied of their contents.

You almost jump out of your skin when an arm pulls you back onto the bed and lips press to the freshly exposed skin between your shoulder blades.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” you breathe, not wanting to disturb the wonderful quiet that’s fallen over the palace after a long day.

“I felt something,” he responds, voice still deep and raspy from sleep.

“I know. My mind…” You wiggle to turn around and face him. “The connection is back, isn’t it?”

He hums in affirmation, golden eyes almost the only thing you can make out in the dark.

“Did you… Was it willingly?” He sounds worried.

“Subconsciously, but yes. I have gotten better at protecting my thoughts from outsiders.”

For a moment, there is silence. Then he asks the question that really isn’t a question at all.

“You were afraid.”

_Of course._

“You were the only thing keeping me safe from Sidious. How could I _not_ have been afraid when you were,” you gulp, “gone?”

He says nothing, so you go on. “And then there were the Jedi. The padawan, Kenobi, saw me on Naboo and although he didn’t do anything then, I always felt like he was going to find me one day. Still do. So the least I could do was to protect my mind, no?”

You can feel his approval come off of him in soft waves. Is he projecting his feelings on purpose or have you just grown so attuned to your own feelings that you can distinguish them from his with more ease?

“My life was put on hold for a decade,” he murmurs. “But yours was not. Please,” the word hangs in the air, “let me see just a fraction of what I missed.”

How could you ever deny that wish?

You close your eyes and start remembering. You travel back to the day all those years ago that you used the few credits you made with your very first bounties to buy an old, simplistic mask off some Rodian pawnshop owner on Nal Hutta, together with the tools necessary to alter it to fit your needs.

Installing a voice modulator and tinkering with the locking mechanism to make it stay in place even when you fought had been the easy part. It was giving up your old identity that proved to be a challenge.

And that is what you show him, allowing the gates to your mind to be wide open and using your voice to give context to the images and feelings he is being confronted with.

It starts with you struggling to make a living, becoming an amateur bounty hunter who was better with their blaster than their words. Then being faced with several far more renowned bounty hunters wanting you dead while at the same time always trying to keep a low profile in case either Sidious or Kenobi would come looking for you. Several arrest warrants, then a fellow bounty hunter coming to your rescue in a dire standoff against some local authorities.

“It wasn’t that I lacked the skill to make it,” you explain quietly. “I just didn’t have the motivation. I was sad and angry all the time, and I didn’t see a way things could ever get better.”

But you got help: One of the most famous bounty hunters to ever travel the galaxy saw your potential, your need for guidance and decided to offer to teach you how to survive in a cold, unforgiving galaxy.

And so you did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of me PROJECTING  
> So... I do have an updating schedule, but don't be fooled: I don't follow it. I was planning to update every Saturday, but realistically, it's probably going to be every Sunday, if I do manage to update weekly.  
> Not as much action in this one, but I feel like you need those emotional chapters sometimes. Next chapter will be different :)  
> Hope you enjoyed this <3


	4. The Past and the Future

_Curiosity was what brought you back to Kessel during a time where you were unsure of who you really were._ As the years passed, you had come to notice that other than your own upbringing, you didn’t really know much of anything about where you were from. Now, obviously it was an easy feat to find information on your father, who - as you found out - was native to Concordia and most likely had many more children; bastards, of course. But you didn’t care about them, just like you didn’t care about Galenos when you slit his throat back on Kessel.

Your mother, on the other hand, wasn’t as easy to find in databases, at least through the holonet. All you really wanted to know was where she came from, and what language those few words you remembered originated from, but you kept running into dead ends in your small, private investigation, so in the end you decided to look in person. Because although slave traders were deeply despicable people, at least the ones on Kessel were meticulous in their data keeping. Perhaps that made it harder for slaves to escape from them, or it made it easier for them to calculate their profits. Whatever it was, you benefited from it - more than you originally anticipated.

That’s how you ended up landing your ship on the planet you had sworn to never return to once more, only few years after the events of Naboo, still scarred and bitter. The resistance you were met with while breaking into the slavers’ office was laughable - one security droid and slightly reinforced windows, which admittedly was probably enough to keep most people out, but still a sad testimony to people’s unwillingness to do something about the slaves’ fates.

While your original goal was to find out more information about your mother, the first thing you did once you got your hands on one of the datapads was to type in your own name, though nothing came up.

You glanced at the now invisible tattoo on your ankle, even though you still knew the number by heart, and typed in the five digit number.

_Identity number: 22368_

_native to: Kessel_

_Status: Deceased; succumbed to Tethian fever_

You scoffed. So that’s how your mother had covered up your disappearance. You wondered if they ever bothered checking.

You were lucky your mother’s file was linked to yours, since you could not remember her number and her first name wasn’t very helpful either. 

_Identity number: 21984_

_native to: Dantooine, brought to Kessel base on assimilation trip #78_

_Status: deceased_

_Affiliations: 22368 (daughter), 24464 (daughter)_

You remember your heart stopping briefly while your eyes stayed glued on the word ‘daughter’. Twice. 

_22368_ , that was you, but the other number? There was another member of your family?

All blood drained from your face, you opened the linked file, eyes scanning over the information.

A child, born just a year before your mother’s death, making her roughly thirteen years younger than you. And according to the file, still slaving away in the spice mines.

Stars, you wanted to just get off this planet and leave it behind, but _how could you possibly_ leave this little girl to a fate that you yourself only narrowly escaped from?

The people in charge of the particular mining operation she had been assigned to at a much too young age were too many and too powerful to just get rid of. And while you did not want to support them in any way, you didn’t want the little girl, your _sister_ , to live a life on the run, so you did the unthinkable: You _paid_ for her. 

The credits you had gathered over the past one or two years would have hardly sufficed, so you did another thing that you generally refrained from; murdering a lower level slaver and raiding their house for easy credits as well as a better conscience, knowing that the money you gave to their kind also came from them. 

Although the entire operation had been a pain, the moment you handed the girl the papers that signified her ownership and she came to understand that, yes, you were giving her her own life, it was all worth it.

“Of course having a kid with you didn’t make things easier,” you throw in now, briefly pulling Maul out of his almost meditative state. “But I couldn’t leave her on her own, even if she was not a slave anymore.”

“Her fate could have been worse than slavery,” Maul agrees quietly.

“Depends. If I had gotten her out a little later… “ You gulp when you imagine the horrors the child would have seen. “Anyways. I took her with me, taught her how to defend herself and how she could help me on jobs.” 

Before your inner eye flash images of a scrawny teenager in the pilot chair of your ship. “She’s gotten good at flying.”

A sound of amusement comes from Maul. “Self-taught, I assume.”

“I am a _fantastic_ pilot. I just don’t like flying.”

“You certainly do not. “ He pauses. “Which I believe means that you will not require to be equipped with one of those jetpacks the Mandalorians are so fond of?”

You snort into the pillow you are still comfortably nestled into, which is response enough.

“So, what now?”

The question hangs in the air, has been since you started planning to take over Mandalore.

“First, we will nurse you back to health.” His words are a promise, one you want to trust in so badly.

“And we will work to expand our crime empire, until it is vast enough to rival Republic forces, vast enough to make me worthy of reclaiming my place from that Sith _impostor.”_

You shudder. 

“You want to go back to serving your master?” You had hoped that you would be able to forever avoid that person. 

“If I don’t offer my compliance, he will crush me, Savage, you… everything.”

You don’t want his logic to make sense. You want to argue against it, convince him to stay away from Sidious and everything will be fine, but you are a grown woman and know it would be a lie.

“But before that,” he resumes, his tone taking on a new kind of determination. “ _We_ will get our revenge.”

You do like the sound of that. 

“What do you have in mind?” 

You can’t quite see his face in the dark, but his eyes only seem to glow brighter when you ask.

“First,” His fingers brush down your arm and slide between yours, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “We will lure him here by making use of his friend Satine whom he seems to be so infatuated with.” 

You feel his weight shift and suddenly his warm breath fans over your neck while his voice drops an octave.

“Then we will bring him to the throne room. Make him _see_ who has replaced his beloved duchess.”

His teeth nib at your skin playfully and you get chills when you think of the powerful image of him sitting on that throne. “I would like to see that,” you mumble your agreement, mind occupied with his ministrations on your exposed neck.

“And lastly,” He moves up to your face. “I will separate them from each other, the way he did on Naboo. But unlike us… They will not find their way back together.” 

Your lips meet and you have to smile into the kiss that is promising a prosperous future.

*

One strike to her wrist and Loa drops her staff with a yelp.

“You are letting down your guard,” you scold her, catapulting the wooden weapon in the air with your foot and handing it back to her.

“I don’t understand why we still need to do this,” she complains, falling back into a ready stance anyways. “Mandalore has been secured for weeks, you have your boyfriend,” you roll your eyes, “and there is a whole squadron of guards around me all the time.”

“And what?” You snap. “You think that means you won’t need to protect yourself? You’ve _seen_ Bo Katan turn on us, you can never know who else will.”

Immediately you regret your harshness when you see her downturned eyes. 

You try to lighten her mood a little. “Besides… You don’t seem to mind having the guards around you if I’m interpreting the looks you’ve been giving -” 

“Oh, cut it out!” She glares at you but can’t help the grin creeping onto her face.

“Look,” you continue in a reconciliatory tone, “I just want to make sure that you get a choice in life. Don’t let people push you around. But we can wrap it up for today, if you want.”

“No, I’m fine, let’s finish this properly.”

You grin, seeing that fire in her eyes again.

You wait for her to get back into position, nudging her foot with your staff before returning to your own spot.

“You start,” you order, allowing your mind to slip into that relaxed state that the familiar training always brings.

Loa is good, you’ve made sure of that. What she lacks in strength and endurance she makes up for in agility and often when you go on missions together also the element of surprise, though that has been happening less lately. There is no immediate need for you to really leave the safety of the palace, so Maul tries to keep you, still slightly impaired as you are, close to him while you try to do the same for your little sister.

Yes, she is good, but still no match for someone with as much experience as you, especially not under the challenging conditions the dimly lit room provides - it strains your eyes much less than regular lighting. Her strikes are easily blocked and returned and as usual, she grows more and more irritated toward the end of the exchange, moving with more force and less precision.

Suddenly, you hiss when her staff connects with your shinbone unexpectedly, your own staff frozen in the middle of its motion. 

Fond annoyance paints your features when you turn around to face your force sensitive companion, while Loa cheers gleefully.

“That’s still cheating, you know,” you remark under your breath, side-glancing at your panting sibling while you walk over to Maul.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

You look over his shoulder to check if any Mandalorians followed him into the training room, though of course you know better; Maul would never be so careless and let others see you while you’re not covering your face.

“What’s up?” Typically, he does not interrupt your early training sessions with Loa - _the bird_ as he has taken to calling her when you speak about her, the name stemming from her habit of whistling absentmindedly when she is at ease, and luckily, it’s a sound you’ve been hearing a lot more over the past few weeks.

“I brought you something.”

You glance curiously at the crate he has levitating beside him, nodding at Loa who slips by and waves a silent goodbye. “It appears you did.” 

“Come.”

He leads the way over to where several targets are lined up against the far wall and opens the crate, revealing a set of three vibroblades. Your attention is caught immediately, despite the scarce lighting only allowing for you to see the glints of the blades.

“Are those for me?” You ask, lifting one up and weighing it in your hand, noticing the good craftsmanship by the perfect balance and the neat welding of blade and handle right away.

“Why, yes, they are. But they’re more than just vibroblades,”

You take slight offense at that, vibroblades being your preferred choice of weaponry. “What about them?”

“You’ll need this.” He places a small, cool item in your open palm and it takes you a moment of fiddling with it to figure out what it is.

“Is this… a ring?”

He just hums, gingerly putting the ring on your ring finger. “Throw one of the knives.”

You are growing increasingly confused, but you wordlessly turn to the targets that are illuminated just enough for you to see them.

The throw is quick and clean, the blade landing dead-center, as to be expected from a throw at an unmoving target from a distance this negligible.

He chuckles, almost in disbelief. “Perfect. Now, keep your hand open and twist it like this,” his warm hands turn your wrist a little and instantly, a small vibration comes from the ring. Not a second after, the knife comes soaring back into your outstretched hand, the handle landing perfectly snug in your palm.

For a moment, you are at a loss for words. 

“How-”

“They are retrieval blades. The ring connects to them and once you give the signal, they are called back to you.”

Your jaw drops in astonishment. “Not a chance, this can’t be…” You throw the knife once more, full force, and twist your hand the same way he showed you and alas - it flies right back into your hand.

“This is amazing, how did you get your hand on those? I didn’t even know they _existed_!”

He chuckles warmly. “We have our resources now, but those are uniquely made just for you, one of the few of their kind in this galaxy.”

You lift the knife up into the ray of light coming through one of the ceiling vents to better admire the beautifully crafted weapon, stunning in its simplicity. The metal is completely black, only interrupted by small streaks of silver adorning the handle and hilt, but that’s not what makes your breath hitch. It’s the familiar glow the ring emits when the light shines on it, the same kind of glow that you find yourself getting lost in so often.

You hold your hand up next to Maul’s face, comparing the color of the crystal to that of his honey-golden eyes while he stands completely still, staring at you patiently.

“They’re the same,” you breathe, closing your fist as if to protect the jewel from falling off.

“I thought you might appreciate the detail.”

You stare at him in wonder, that extraordinary man who can be such a sombre presence while at the same time being so deeply thoughtful and… caring.

“I do. I do appreciate it. All of it.” You swallow. “Thank you.”

“Plus…” he adds slowly, taking a hold of your hand and bringing it to eye level. “I do quite enjoy the sight of you wearing this.” 

“Is that what it is?” Your voice takes on a teasing edge, even though you do understand the underlying sentiment: He likes you publicly wearing something that showcases your allegiance to none other than him. And so do you. “Whatever it is, I am happy about it.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your knuckles, seemingly uncaring of how rough the skin on your hands is after years of daily training. “I have a feeling something meaningful will happen very soon. I want you to have this when it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I am so sorry for not updating last week but I was just overwhelmed with work and the words were refusing to come to me...  
> Now, these two chapters have been rather uneventful in terms of action, BUT! There'll be more coming soon. Promise.  
> I always appreciate your comments and feedback; it's crazy motivating to me to read all these lovely things you guys have to say. Thank you.


	5. Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Season 5, Episode 16 of SWTCW!

“Lord Maul, there’s been a security breach in the prison.”

You exchange looks with Maul. 

“Is it Satine?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maul has a smug expression on his face, one that typically wouldn’t be appropriate in this situation. 

“Stop her, but do not hurry too much. Just don’t let her leave the planet.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t question his orders, instead rushing out of the throne room while comming the other units.

“You are using her as bait for Kenobi,” you remark, seeing through his plan. 

A timid voice behind you speaks up. “How do we know they won’t send Republic forces?” 

Surprised you turn around to look at your sister, who until now has not been very outspoken during strategic discussions. 

You wave off her worries. “We are a neutral system, they would know better than to come here. Kenobi on the other hand…” 

“Noble as always, the Jedi will come to rescue his _damsel in distress,_ ” Maul finishes your sentence.

Loa nods in understanding. 

“You will have your revenge, brother.” Savage muses.

“Are you going to kill him immediately?” It would be out of character of him to not at least think of a different way of hurting Kenobi.

“I am going to take from him what he kept from me… I will kill Satine, then kill him after, so that he dies knowing his duchess died… all because of him.”

And you’ll finally have one person less to worry about, one less reappearing figure of your nightmares.

Your comlink vibrates and you open the transmission, the blue silhouette of Mandalorian armor appearing.

“The duchess has been arrested, but her accomplices are still at large.”

“Did she make the transmission?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Bring her back to her cell and keep looking for her accomplices.”

You sever the connection and give Maul an expectant look. 

“Now we wait.”

*

You did wait. One and a half days, to be more precise.

“An unregistered ship is closing in on the landing pad,” the voice crackles through the comlink. “How should we proceed?”

“Let’s see how this would play out without our interference, shall we?” Maul looks positively entertained.

“Standard procedure,” you order and cut the transmission.

“Don’t get too carried away,” you tease him. “He might actually make it off this planet if we keep letting him pass.”

Of course you know he won’t, but the thought is too amusing to not voice. 

“Oh, I will make _sure_ he will not ever set foot off this planet again, that I can assure you, _my lady_.”

There are perks to having the throne room to yourself, you think. One of them is the ability to be as lighthearted and flirty as you want to. The other … has been explored once or twice as a form of stress relief after a nerve-frying meeting already, though you doubt there is time for _that_ right now.

“I’m sure you will.”

Absentmindedly, you tug at your braid. It’s a little lower than usual, just barely enough for you to notice the difference, but it’s that way for good reason: Maul did it for you this morning, after having watched you do it countless times with such skill and routine that he couldn’t help his curious nature. The final product was the result of the fourth try, after the first three failed for various reasons; not pulling hard enough, letting go of strands, getting distracted by your exposed neck. The last one, however, was surprisingly good, good enough for you to leave it in for the rest of the day while at the same time being a reminder of the pleasant memory.

“Let’s check on our friend Kenobi,” he suggests, the excitement glinting in his eyes. 

You shake your head in amusement, tapping away on your wristcom to recall the security holo footage from the prison, zapping through various levels and angles until you find Satine’s cell - now empty.

“It appears the Jedi is faster than anticipated,” you remark, raising your arm to show him the abandoned place.

“So it does,” he muses, not worried in the least.

The emergency line crackles to life. 

“It’s the duchess. She’s getting away!”

“Which way is she headed?” 

“The landing pad!”

You look at Maul who nods calmly.

“Stop them from taking off,” you command. “We will be there.”

The spaceship most likely wouldn’t have been able to take off on its own, let alone after several missiles were fired at its engines. Now it is spinning in the air, seconds from blowing up. 

_Better get out now, Kenobi._

You still have to squint, though the pain is bearable as long as you allow your eyes to get used to the changed light conditions gradually. The fire set to the ship however makes it all the more challenging for you to look at, and when the Jedi and his _friend_ finally jump out and the ship goes up in a ball of flames, you have to shield your eyes so as to not go temporarily blind again, as it happens when the lighting changes suddenly.

Your hood is blown back with the intensity of the explosion and small pieces of metal rain down on your group. You’re lucky you have your mask that at least keeps you from breathing in the smoke and dust.

Slowly, you all approach the crash site where a blond man in Mandalorian armor - _red_ Mandalorian armor, that of _your_ warriors - weakly crawls over the ground, moving a piece of metal away from… away from the former duchess.

_It seems his affection for the woman runs deeper than expected._

It is only now that he appears to notice you or more precisely, Maul.

“No, it can’t be.”

He ignites his lightsaber, though his stance is that of a man who has already pushed past his limits and Maul holds his neck in his outstretched hand in no time. 

“We meet again, Kenobi. Welcome to my world.” 

You can hear how positively euphoric the zabrak is to finally have his revenge in such close proximity and you yourself can’t help the elated feeling that washes over you. _This is it._

“Take them back to the palace.”

The Jedi is unable to walk anymore and it truly would be a pitiful display had you not lived the past ten years in fear of him and the rest of those knights somehow tracking you down and … bringing you to justice for the numerous crimes on your record. But no longer do you need to fear him, or any Jedi at that. 

“Your noble flaw is a weakness shared by you… and your duchess.”

Nothing but Maul’s words of victory and Satine’s desperate gasps as he holds her up in the air by the neck can be heard, with the exception of Kenobi drawing in a sharp breath upon seeing the woman in such a predicament.

“You should have chosen the dark side, Master Jedi. Your emotions betray you. Your fear, and yes, your _anger_. Let your anger deepen your hatred.”

The last time you saw Kenobi - in person, seeing as he is one of the more prominent faces of the army of the Republic - he was a mere padawan, young and inexperienced but marked by deep sorrow. Today, he is almost unrecognizable, but it is this moment that you can see the same kind of raw emotion on the face of the man that is usually so collected. Today, he is a padawan all over again, watching helplessly as somebody he cares for dies at the hands of the Sith.

“Don’t listen to him, Obi-” 

“Quiet.” 

Kenobi takes a deep breath, and you just have to admire that pure self-control in a situation so dire.

“You can kill me, but you will never destroy me. It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.”

“It is more powerful than you know.” There is something more than intimidation that resounds in Maul’s voice; he sounds almost regretful for a second, more sincere than you expected him to be in the presence of the man he hates with such a passion.

“And those who oppose it are more powerful than you’ll ever be. I know where you’re from. I’ve been to your village. I know the decision to join the dark side wasn’t yours. The nightsisters made it for you.”

_He’s been to the village?_ What else don’t you know?

“Silence!” Maul’s until now calm demeanor crumbles and out comes the fury that has been lingering in his hearts for over a decade. 

“You think you know _me_? It was _I_ who languished for years, thinking of nothing but this moment. And now the perfect tool for my vengeance is in front of us. I never planned on killing you. But I will make you _share my pain_ , Kenobi.”

You know the moment has come, the moment where he will break him.

Kenobi is pushed to his knees as Maul ignites the darksaber; It is borderline poetical how the former ruler of Mandalore will lose her life through the weapon she banned alongside its culture.

It happens in mere seconds: Satine’s body is pulled forward with the force, Maul turns and the darksaber goes straight through her middle. Fast, clean; almost merciful.

The Jedi scrambles to catch her falling body, brushing her hair out of her face so tenderly that despite your detestation of the man, you almost feel sorry for him. He, just like Maul, was a victim of his circumstances. And now, he is suffering just like Maul did.

The gloomy mood is overwritten by Maul’s silent ecstasy that he is feeling so intensely, he is - subconsciously or not - projecting it onto you.

“Remember, my dear Obi Wan… I’ve loved you always. I always will.”

Her words are spoken hoarsely, quietly with her dying breath and you feel like an intruder to watch this tragic scene unfold, but you can’t take your eyes off the two. Kenobi’s chest shakes with sorrow when her body goes limp in his arms. “Do we kill him now, brother?”

You love Savage like a brother, but there are times that his approach to things is a little _primitive._

“No,” It seems his crimson brother has thought of a new way to destroy Kenobi - even further.

“Imprison him below. Let him drown in his misery. Take him to his cell to _rot_.”

Your head whips around to face Maul, your surprise clear in your eyes.

This is _not_ what you had agreed on. He was supposed to kill him now and end this once and for all.

“The prison is not suited to hold a Jedi,” you argue.

“We will find an appropriate cell for our _guest,_ I’m sure.” 

You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from talking back to him. This is _his_ revenge, not yours. And if keeping Kenobi alive for now is what will make him feel better after having lived abandoned and alone on Lotho Minor for years, then so be it. But you have one condition.

“I’m coming along to make sure the appropriate measures are taken.” It’s not a question, it’s a plain statement that is not to be argued with. 

If he is to be kept on Mandalore then you _need_ to make sure he will not ever leave the prison complex, for the sake of your own sanity - you’ve lived long enough worried about this man bursting through the door after he saw your face on Naboo, you don’t need to have this fear for the rest of your life.

You try to tell him as much with one look, unwilling to let down your mental walls around the Jedi.

Maul understands.

“Very well.” 

He looks so regal, sitting in that throne with his crown of horns atop his head and the sword of the ruler in his right hand. You try to etch the picture into your memory, your eyes traveling from the clean lines on his face over his toned shoulders to the cybernetics that you are still in the process of getting used to, though the sound of metal on the stone floor has quickly become one you associate with Maul. 

Spinning on your heel, you wave for the guards to follow you.

“Let’s take him away.”

It’s almost disappointing how little Kenobi does to fight back, but at the same time it makes you extremely anxious. It shouldn’t go so smoothly, it _never_ goes this smoothly. Did he bring reinforcement after all? The next thing you’ll know is the Jedi are invading Mandalore and destroying everything you have.

No, you wish he had fought against the guards dragging him over the ground instead of just hanging there with his head dropped in utter defeat, as well as how he is currently kneeling on the transport pad without even glancing at his surroundings.

“Speed it up if you can,” you order the armored man in charge of the controls, voice cold and commanding as always through the modulator.

You have just made it onto the platform of the prison when you hear the first shot.

“Take cover!” you yell at the same time that someone else cries out: “It’s the rebels!”

Somebody’s jetpack explodes behind you, sending you flying over the edge of the platform. You just barely manage to hold onto the ledge with one hand, watching as one of the guards, the one you had told to hurry, falls hundreds of feet until you can’t even him anymore.

Grunting from the exertion, you pull yourself back up, immediately rolling under a swing from - 

“You!” You hiss, shooting at the blasted woman that is the cause for your _still_ impaired vision. The shots just bounce off of her beskar armor, though one singes the red hair enough to distract her momentarily, giving you a chance to draw your vibroblades, your _actual_ vibroblades, not the laughable replacement you had on your first encounter.

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” You snarl, lounging at Bo-Katan, the constant throbbing behind your temples only fueling your strength by reminding you of what she’d done.

This time, you get the upper hand quickly, pushing her closer and closer to the abysm lurking beyond the ledge of the platform. Other rebels are approaching from behind you but you don’t care; you almost have their leader at your mercy - the moment she has to evade by using her jetpack, you’ll get the second you need to have a clear shot at her unprotected head. You know this, and so does she. 

“You are a traitor!”

“Pre Vizsla was meant to be Mandalore’s ruler, not this outsider!” She counters, venom dripping from her voice.

“You’ll pay for your betrayal, I will see to that,” you snap in return, inching closer to the edge.

“Oh, will you? Speaking of _seeing,”_ her obnoxious tone makes you grit your teeth, “how are your ey-”

You slash at her without warning, but she lets herself fall backwards. Your eyes track her movement, blaster pointed and ready but right before you can pull the trigger, she does something unexpected.

“ _Aah_ , you _bi-_ ”, the blinding light shining from her gauntlet makes you stagger backwards while you desperately try to cover your eyes. You don’t get to finish the curse as someone jams something, a needle, into your neck.

“Whyyou blasted son of … ssson of… what did… “

You fall, the world going black when your back meets the floor with a dull thud.

*

“I still don’t quite understand why you took her with you. If anything, it’s going to infuriate Maul even more.”

“I am well aware of that, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs, running a tired hand through his hair. He has hardly gotten any sleep in the past 48 hours and it’s starting to catch up to him. “But she could have valuable information that, unlike Maul, she may be more inclined to share with us.”

“Sir,” Cody steps into his field of vision, holding a datapad in his hand. “Our scans have brought some first results concerning her identity.”

“Excellent, put them up.”

The holotable lights up when the datapad is connected to it, and a second later he is faced with a headshot of the masked woman who goes by the name _Spectress_.

“The first time that name popped up was around eight years ago, there is no mention of her before that. There are several outstanding arrest warrants for assassinations and kidnappings, some of which concerned galactic senators.”

“Thank you, Cody.”

The commander gives him a respectful nod and takes a step back to stand next to Captain Rex who has been silent until now. 

“So basically… We know nothing about her?” Anakin’s incredulous look only adds to Obi-Wan’s weariness and he is about to retort something when Rex suddenly speaks up.

“Uh, Sir? I think I have seen that person before.” 

Anakin looks at his captain with furrowed eyebrows.

“She _has_ been on several ‘Wanted’ posters, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“No, Sir, I mean something else.” The clone clears his throat. “I’ve seen her… on Kamino.”

Immediately, his interest is piqued. “Kamino? What could she possibly have wanted on Kamino?”

“I don’t know, Sir. She was with Jango Fett. They seemed to know each other.”

“Jango Fett… so that was before the war broke out.” Obi-Wan thinks loudly. “Anakin, are you thinking what I’m thinking?

“She could know something about the creation of the army and Syfo Dias.”

“Exactly.” He strokes his beard in thought. “Also, if she truly is as close to Maul as we think, she might have information on the unknown Sith Lord.”

“The only question is how we’re going to make her talk,” Anakin throws in. “I doubt someone like this is going to be very cooperative.”

The blast doors slide open and an officer hurries into the room.

“General Kenobi, we have found something else that you may want to see.”

The man opens a projection of what appears to have once been information stored on a bounty puck. 

“We ran some face scans and this picture was a 90 percent match. The information adds up.”

The woman in the picture is young, her face serious yet clearly youthful. But what strikes him most is the fact he instantly recognizes her. How could he not? It was her he ran into right after the most drastic turning point in his life, the death of his master. Back then her face was streaked with tears and painted in the same shock he felt when he saw her. He didn’t realize then that she was crying for the dead, _supposedly_ dead Sith lord. 

Obi-Wan tears his gaze away from the photo, instead skimming the brief information. The woman appeared to be from Kessel, but the bounty on her head was too considerable for a low-level criminal in the Outer Rim. Then something else catches his eye.

“Tattoos on abdomen, ankle and back… Did you-”

“Yes, the information matches the prisoner.” That leaves little room for doubt.

“ _This_ is supposed to be Spectress? The mercenary?”

Anakin’s disbelief is understandable. The name _Spectress_ is well-known enough to have reached the ears of the Republic Commando on multiple occasions, and the face staring back at him from the projection is hardly one that would fit the reputation. 

“You must remember, Anakin, this was over a decade ago. You were just a child when this was taken and look where you are today: Much can change in that time.”

“Of course, Master.” His tone has changed, it is more distant now. His padawan, _former_ padawan, dislikes any mention of his young age, but Obi-Wan is too worn out to address this issue at the moment.

“Has she woken up yet?” He instead asks the officer.

“No, Sir, though the sedative should wear off soon. We are unfamiliar with the exact effects of the particular mixture seeing as it does not correspond to Republic standards, but-” 

He waves the clone off.

“Notify me when she awakes.”

The man salutes and leaves the room, giving him a chance to look over the other data their scans have provided.

“Bruising on arms and legs, remnants of stab wounds in several places, light sensitivity, tattooed insignia on back… What is the meaning of this?”

“It appears there is some kind of an emblem she is marked with. It is not an entirely uncommon practice in more exclusive guilds, especially in the outer rim…” Cody frowns while he studies his own datapad.

“Do we have an image of this insignia?”

“That’s what’s strange, sir. A scar runs right through the middle, so our algorithms have trouble searching the database. Look,” Cody holds out his datapad for Obi-Wan to take.

The image is indeed striking, but not because of the scar.

“I am familiar with this emblem,” Obi-Wan mumbles, staring at the two overlapping gearwheels and the distinct lines running through them. “I’ve seen it during my time undercover as Rako Hardeen, though I never knew Spectress had anything to do with them.”

“Who are they?” Anakin inquires, tired of being left in the dark.

“It is a guild of contract killers, they call themselves the Concinnity.” Obi-Wan swallows, remembering the stories he heard from other bounty hunters. “They start training when they are still children and they are… ruthless.”

“Well, that would at least explain what somebody like Maul sees in her… and vice-versa, I guess.”

“Do you think she’s still a member, sir? I doubt she would have worked with Jango Fett while in that kind of guild.” 

Rex brings up a valid point. 

“I suppose we will have to wait until we can ask her ourselves,” Obi-Wan sighs. “But the more I find out about this person, the less i feel like she is going to cooperate with us, to be completely honest.”

“She’ll talk, one way or another.”

Anakin’s willingness to use the force to break mental barriers has been worrying the Jedi master for a longer time now, though he hasn’t brought it up with him yet. It seems like more and more things are starting to be left unsaid between them.

His comlink beeps.

“General Kenobi, the prisoner is conscious. You can start the interrogation whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I will be right there.”

“Also, sir, she is not… happy.”

He exhales deeply.

“I expected no less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could it be... a POV change? Impossible!  
> I've been wanting to write from Obi-Wan's point of view for a while, I feel like it gives another dimension to the conflict between our favorites.  
> I am very tired, so I can't think of anything else to put into the notes right now. I just wanted to get this chapter up for you guys, hope there aren't too many errors that I missed; usually I proof-read a little more than I did today, I will go over it once more tomorrow. As always, your comments make my day, so don't be shy :))  
> Have a good one!


	6. The Interrogation

He hears the prisoner before he sees her. The woman who was so inconspicuous in the throne room is now cursing him, the troopers, and the entire Republic out at the top of her longs, her voice echoing through the corridor. At least he highly _suspects_ it is her voice; it is undistorted and clear, much lighter than the voice he remembers.

“... And your brothers and every single person who has taken part in this, _no_ mercy, _no_ survivors, and if you think you can-”

The angry ranting stops at once when Obi-Wan steps into the woman’s view.

For a moment, his breath is taken away. This face… It is like he is back on Naboo, carrying the lifeless body of Master Qui-Gon. The memory hits him hard and unexpectedly, causing him to falter in his step for the fraction of a second before he regains his composure.

“You,” the woman looks daggers at him through the force field that separates her from the outside, suddenly not looking like the woman he remembers at all but much more like how one would expect Spectress to look like under that signature mask, except for much more… human. And vulnerable.

He does not like the swell of pity he senses rising in himself when he catches a glimpse of her bloodshot eyes and the bruising on her cheek - after all, she stood by and watched as Satine was killed, _slaughtered_ by Maul, and even appealed for his own execution.

_But Revenge is not the Jedi Way… And neither is resentment, no matter the deed._

“General,” The guards salute him. “We have confiscated her belongings and searched them for any tracking devices.”

“And you are _certain_ that she is unarmed?” 

“We’ve run several scans, sir.” 

“Good.”

He assesses the situation briefly, taking in her hands that are cuffed to the table.

“Open the cell, I wish to speak to her.”

She has stopped speaking, only glowering at him when he enters the claustrophobic space.

“You got a lot of nerve-”

“Please,” he interrupts, sitting down. “Do not make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“ _I am-_ It was _you_ who kidnapped me!” Her features are contorted in rage and with it, her light accent shines through otherwise flawless Basic.

“ _Kidnapped?_ ” Obi-Wan questions. “You have multiple open arrest warrants and were complicit in the violent takeover of Mandalorian rule-”

“That took place in a neutral system and is thus not under Republic jurisdiction if I have to remind you. Besides, it was Pre Vizsla who pushed your duchess off her throne,” Her voice takes on another, more malicious undertone while she widens her eyes mockingly sweet, “ _Obi._ ”

The old nickname stings more than he would like to admit, especially coming from someone who _was there_ when it happened, but he forces himself to remain objective... and fair.

“We have a few questions for you. If you cooperate and answer them truthfully, we will be able to lower your sentence considerably.”

Considering she is responsible for the assassinations of multiple senators, her prison sentence is still going to be at least two digits, but there could be worse things. Aside from that, Obi-Wan has seen how quickly one could escape from prison. Somebody like Spectress, who is already known for being one of the... craftier faces of the underground could probably-

“Lower my sentence?” She sounds almost offended. “After you unlawfully took me from _my_ planet? I don’t think so.”

His heart sinks when it becomes painfully obvious that she will do anything but cooperate, even though he expected that going into it.

The prisoner leans forward on her elbows, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “You will regret this, Kenobi:”

“Look, as much as you may dislike this, we have the upper hand here. We can start simple. Your name?”

“None of your concern.”

“Since you have committed crimes against the Republic, it is, actually.”

She rolls her eyes shifting away from him again, unresponsive.

“Perhaps something else, then. What do you know of the creation of the clone army?”

“The clones?” The mercenary furrows her brows. “What would I know of them? And why would _you_ care, isn’t it you they work for?”

He chooses to ignore her last question, instead pushing further. 

“We know you were acquainted with Jango Fett, and that you’ve been to the facilities on Kamino.”

She only quirks an eyebrow, in turn ignoring him.

“Pardon my choice of words, the clones don’t work for you, I forgot. They don’t get paid, do they?”

“What was your relationship with Fett?”

“Again, none of your concern. Hey, you!” The woman looks over his shoulder at one of the two guards standing by the cell. “Do you get _paid_ for this? And did you choose to risk your life for people who don’t even care about you?”

Obi-Wan glances at the trooper, Flamer if he recalls correctly, who remains unmoving, though his back straightens almost unnoticeably.

“Again, it is my concern. Were you related?” She scoffs in response. “Were you a client? Partners? Lovers?”

The last word makes her grimace in distaste. 

“We were _friends_ , Kenobi, a concept I’m sure must be quite foreign to the likes of you.”

“Friends?” He raises an eyebrow. At last, _something_ to go off of. “Do you know who hired Fett as a genetic donor?”

Her eye twitches. 

“I find it quite presumptuous of you to be asking me all these things… After all, it was one of your _Jedi knights_ who decapitated him. Perhaps if you had been more considerate then, you’d now be able to ask him yourself.”

For a moment, heavy silence hangs in the room like a cloud of smoke. “But you can’t,” she concludes. “Because you _murdered_ him.”

Oh, her tone is so bitter, Obi-Wan knows his death struck her hard, even though it had been years back.

“I do not believe he was solely a friend of yours,” He comments. “I think he was more than that, or you would not be so caught up on his passing.”

“His violent murder? You are correct, it was quite memorable, not only to me but also to his _son_ ,” she spits. “I believe you’ve met him, haven’t you? How does it feel knowing one of you slaughtered his father before his own two eyes? How can the Jedi be so morally condescending after all the families they have ripped apart?”

“ _Your_ family amongst them?”

“Numerous families, Kenobi. And yes, most recently, you have torn me from whatever I had on Mandalore.”

“Did you consider Jango Fett family?” He presses on further.

“Does it matter? Certainly not to you, right?”

“We are trying to get to the bottom of a case here,” he explains calmly. “And any information you have may prove to be useful.”

“Why would I help you?” She snorts. “To get one life sentence instead of two? A cell with a window? An autograph from the famed Jedi general himself?”

Obi-Wan has a strong urge to bury his face in his hands in frustration. Instead, he puts on the kindest smile he can muster at this moment.

“Because I believe that you, contrary to popular opinion, do have morals. We are looking into something that goes deeper than a simple feud you have with our order, even deeper than the hatred _Maul_ harbors for it… and me.” He closes his eyes for a second to reflect.

“I am asking you, in all seriousness, if you can give us anything that could possibly point us in the right direction.”

The woman looks at him differently now. The constant scowl is gone from her features, replaced by a slight frown.

“You speak of the Sith.”

“What do you know of them?”

She glares at him. “More than you.”

“Then I take it you know who the master is?”

Something flashes across her face, brief enough to miss it if he blinked. Silence ensues as she seems to ponder, intense eyes focused on something invisible in the air

He holds his breath, feeling the revelation so close.

“I…” she finally begins hesitantly, “He is-” She gulps and goosebumps rise on Obi-Wan’s spine when he sees her fingertips tremble against the metal table, wondering who could have the ability to instill this much fear in a person.

Her mouth opens to continue, but no words come out. She blinks in confusion, trying again and looking down to the side when the words refuse to leave her mouth.

“He is… he controls…” The words come out in a strained voice, but before she reveals concrete information, she starts choking as if something is closing around her windpipe.

True, sincere panic fills her eyes when her hands struggle against their restraints as she attempts to claw at the invisible force around her throat. Intuitively, Obi-Wan reaches out, despite there being no physical enemy. His hand drops when she flinches away from him, too, but in that moment the invisible attack ceases and she gasps for air, slumping forward, facing the sterile floor.

Neither party speaks for a minute.

“I can’t help you,” the woman eventually states, voice hoarse. “Just know you face an evil of a scale that you can’t… comprehend yet.”

The atmosphere has gone through such a complete change that Obi-Wan feels it is unwise to continue the interrogation much longer.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” 

“I am not cooperating,” she hisses, right back to being the renowned mercenary. “I just know we have a common enemy. Which does _not_ ” Her glare tells him she knows he was about to make a hopeful comment about working together, “make us allies. I still _despise_ you and everything you stand for.”

“Well, it was lovely talking to you. We will resume tomorrow.” He pushes the metal chair back, moving to stand up.

“ _Wait._ ”

The urgency in her voice makes him freeze for a moment.

“Something else you would like to tell me?”

“ _Give it back._ ”

“Give what back?”

“My stuff, Kenobi. You have taken several of my possessions, some of which were,” she curls her lip, “of value to me.” 

“What exactly are you talking about? Perhaps if you show more willingness to work with us in the future, something could be arranged.”

“For one, I want my anonymity back, but you destroyed that option when you took away my mask while _I was unconscious_.”

The last words are delivered with force, her gaze downright deadly.

“But that’s not all. You took something else, something of… sentimental value.”

She glances at her hands.

“When I was _kidnapped_ by your rebel friends, I was wearing a ring on my right hand and somebody took it. All I want is to have it back, is that too much to ask for?”

_A ring?_ He didn’t expect a request so… mundane. 

He gives her one last look before turning and leaving the cell.

“We will talk tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, quite a bit of dialogue in this one, though I have to admit that I do really enjoy writing it :)   
> As always, comments are very welcome ~   
> See you next week!


	7. Impatience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no canon information on the name of Anakin’s Jedi cruiser after the Resolute was destroyed (I think??) so I made one up. It literally does not matter but I thought I’d mention it in case someone wonders :D

The caf has gone cold by now and does little to relieve the ache that has settled in his shoulders, testimony to the constant stress he has put himself under.

It’s been precisely 36 hours since he boarded the _Vigilance_ and, while his five-hour nap after the first interrogation did help his condition, there is no denying that he is worn out; physically and mentally.

“So you mean she just… _couldn’t_ tell you? Seems odd to me.”

“You weren’t there, Anakin,” Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose. “If it was an act, it was quite believable and if it was not… We may be closer to finding answers than we thought.”

Anakin crosses his arms, his stance showing his disbelief.

“You _said_ you felt no force presence, let alone that of a Sith Lord. How does that add up?”

Obi-Wan heaves a sigh.

“If I knew, I would tell you, believe me.”

“Should we search her mind?”

Absentmindedly, Obi-Wan strokes his beard.

“No, let’s hold back for now. I had the feeling that for a moment, I was getting somewhere. If we invade her mind now, any chance of voluntary cooperation is lost indefinitely.”

“Do you want me to stay for the time being?” Anakin scratches the back of his neck. “Ahsoka is on Coruscant for a while anyways and Rex is already on his way back to the Resilience.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s gaze softens. “If you have nowhere else to be, you are always welcome on the Vigilance. These are trying times for us all.”

 _Indeed they are._ The war has brought on issues Obi-Wan has rarely had before - loss, separation, the constant struggle between doing what’s right and doing what’s efficient. The Jedi are not used to this life, the once tightly knit community at the temple has been forced to spread out through the galaxy, wherever they are needed on the battlefield. He worries sometimes when he thinks of all the younglings who grow up as children of the war, starting to fight for their lives at an age where he still spent most of his time studying or going on missions with Master Qui-Gon that, albeit wild at times, always had an educational value. These children, Padawan Tano included, know little of a world outside of the war, a world in which the galaxy lives and breathes as one instead of being split into two parties.

And Force knows he is in need of a friend after Satine’s death.

Anakin clears his throat.

“Maybe if we could uncover who is actually behind the creation of the clones, we could get somewhere without further relying on her intel. If you let me question her, she might open up more; after all, it seems you two had a … personal history.”

“She does appear to find me quite despicable, yes.”

A wide grin spreads across Anakin’s features.

“Then watch and learn, _Master_.”

*

“We’ve gone through this already,” she deadpans, the dark circles under her eyes only adding to the expression. “I’m not telling you my name.” 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Oh really.” She raises her eyebrows mockingly at Anakin. “I’m not scared of you. You’re, like, 16?”

The question is obviously meant to provoke him since Anakin clearly is much older than that, but Obi-Wan remains hopeful that his apprentice won’t let her get to him that easily.

“I am a General of the Republic and very much capable of making you talk, be sure of that.”

She doesn’t respond.

“What we want to know is this: Somebody ordered the creation of a clone army for the Republic without the Republic’s knowledge. You knew Jango Fett - Surely he mentioned who hired him.” 

A halfhearted shrug is all Anakin gets.

“Don’t recall.”

“So you’re telling me all this time you spent with Fett, he never mentioned who paid him enough credits to last him a lifetime?”

Her eyes narrow instantly. “What do _you_ think you know about how much time I spent with Jango Fett? I don’t remember ever saying we were that close, it was your partner here who assumed as much.”

“There’s no need for you to lie; your reactions gave you away, _Spectress_.”

Slowly, Anakin leans across the table until he is face to face with the mercenary.

“I’m going to tell you what I believe is the case. I think you and Jango Fett were _lovers_ and that it was him who is the reason for your success in the trade; after all, you didn’t become as notorious as you are now until _after_ you met him, isn’t that so? But of course, that doesn’t do well for your reputation, so you will go to any lengths to _deny it_.”

The woman’s face is scrunched up in barely contained fury.

“You know nothing,” she hisses. “I came from nothing, made a name for _myself_ , built a skillset _myself_. Jango _mentored_ me when I was young and inexperienced and to think that you would so easily jump to the conclusion that we-”

She shuts her mouth when Anakin breaks out into a triumphant grin, realizing she gave away more about their relationship than she intended.

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan with the expectancy of a proud boy showing his father a picture he drew, and Obi-Wan doesn’t try to hide the fact that he is impressed with Anakin’s skill to push people’s buttons to get them to confess. It is easy to forget how capable he is on his own when so often, it’s just the two of them together.

“A mentor, you say?” He strokes his beard. “That would explain some things. Then, there is no doubt you know who hired Fett, is there?”

“You already do, too.”

“That is true. However, we do not know his identity - we only have the _name_ Tyranus.”

A weak laugh tumbles from the woman’s lips. “All this time, and you couldn’t even figure out who _Tyranus_ is? I don’t know what I expected.” 

“So you do know.”

“Possibly.”

 _Possibly._ Yes, she was definitely mentored by Fett.

“Perhaps, with some motivation, you could find some… certainty.” Slowly, Obi-Wan retrieves the ring he picked up earlier from his pocket, holding it up between his fingers so that she can see it. Naturally, he inspected it beforehand, searching for hidden blades or even a needle that could be used as a weapon, but it appeared it was really only a piece of jewelry.

Her eyes automatically set on it, the internal struggle shining through the cracks of her exterior.

“I… can’t tell you who Tyranus is.”

“Then I suppose I’ll take this back down the hall,” he moves to put the ring back into the pocket.

“No, wait, let me… _blast,”_ she shakes her head slightly. “Tyranus … He is not on your side.”

“In the war?” Anakin asks.

She nods slowly.

“Why would an opponent of the Republic commission an army for it?”

She glares at him.

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re puppets, all of you. The clones, the Jedi, the politicians on Coruscant. All of you are just playing _his_ game, and eventually he’ll … he’ll-”

She bites her lip like something is keeping her from talking again.

“No, no, no, what were you saying? _Who_ will do _what_?” Anakin jumps up and leans over her face, taking a hold of her jaw before Obi-Wan can protest his approach, then the force around him shifts as he tries to force the answers out of her mind.

In a split second, her forehead connects with his nose as she headbutts him hard enough to make him stumble backwards and almost into the force field, a sickening cracking sound resonating through the cell.

“ _Aargh_ ,” Anakin groans, holding his hand up to stop the blood from running down his face, giving her a dirty look.

“Don’t _ever_ try to do that,” She hisses, punctuating every word to get the message across.

Obi-Wan sighs quietly.

“Come, Anakin. We will come back another time.”

“Wait!” She sounds almost desperate for a moment. “My ring - I told you all I could about Tyranus.”

He looks back and forth between Anakin and the prisoner, then makes a quick decision.

“Let’s hope you’ll prove your gratitude later.”

The ring is set on the metal table with more force than he intended, and he does not bother to watch her pick it up, quickly joining Anakin who is leaving the cell.

“You should go to the medbay.”

“Years of fighting in the war and a _restrained_ prisoner is the one to first break my nose, I can’t believe it.” He silently curses, but Obi-Wan chooses not to scold him this time.

“I’m sure Padmé won’t mind that much,” he comments offhandedly.

“I don’t - What? What do you… No, no, I don’t see why the _senator_ would… I don’t even...”

He gives his padawan a firm pat on the back. “You go to the medbay, I’ll notify the council. It is time we update them on our investigation.”

*

You hate him. You hate him _so much_ , yet the moment he returned your ring, you were close to forgetting that fact. But now, with tiredness settling in your bones, your wrists chafed due to being handcuffed for well over a day, and the golden glint of the ring reminding you of who you _could_ be with right now if it weren’t for Kenobi, your resolve is back.

By now, you know the guards’ routine. Every six hours one comes in to bring a bowl of protein paste and water and one of your hands is released to allow you to eat - but the mechanism only unlocks _after_ the man has left the cell. The force field that traps you inside is opened only when the guard enters, meaning that there is a ten second time frame that it’s open before and after every meal. And you intend to use it.

The next time the trooper enters, you are ready. After he places the bowl on the table and turns his back to you to leave the cell and open your handcuff, you use all of your upper-body strength to push yourself onto your hands on the table and spin across it, your outstretched legs colliding with his helmet with enough force to knock him unconscious. And just as you hoped, his head lies perfectly on the line where the force field _would_ appear - if his brother is willing to sacrifice him, that is.

One blaster bolt - set to stun, you note - soars past you, but you pay no mind to it, stomping onto the remote in the limp trooper’s hand. And _there,_ the handcuffs release your wrists with a hiss, giving you the opportunity to finally move away from the blasted table that held you in place for so long and roll under the next shot the clone fires.

He is knocked out just as easily as his comrade, whom you push out of the way of the force field with your foot. No need for more charges in your file.

An alarm started blaring the moment you crossed the threshold, indicating that more soldiers will be arriving shortly, so you’ll have to be quick. Armed with only one blaster that you managed to snatch from the unconscious trooper before footsteps to your left forced you to hurry away, you run through the hallway you watched Kenobi and his friend come from earlier in the hopes that they came from the evidence room.

Two troopers round the corner before you, but you quickly throw the blaster at one of their heads in order to distract them while keeping the noise down so as to not alert any more soldiers. Before they have actually realized what is happening, you’ve already floored one and crashed the other one’s head into the wall.

“Stun baton,” you mumble, a satisfied smile on your face as you pick up the weapon, though that smile drops when you catch a glimpse of the other trooper whose helmet has come partially off when it smacked against the wall.

There is no reason to be so surprised to see the face of your dead mentor, but it still stings to see such a familiar face in these circumstances.

You deliver a shock to the still conscious trooper, then proceed down the hall. Finally, you see the door labelled ‘Evidence - authorized personnel only’.

You try a few standard password combinations, to no avail. However, a shot at the panel does the job and the blast doors open.

Rushing inside, you already see the box labelled ‘Spectress’ a few feet away from you, when a trooper suddenly appears in front of you with his blaster raised. Footsteps behind you tell you you are surrounded.

“Drop your weapons and hands up.”

Your eyes flicker around you while you slowly bend down to set your weapons on the floor, trying to find a way out of this.

“You don’t want to do this, trust me.” When you raise your hands dutifully, the light hits your ring, giving you an idea so bizarre, it might actually work.

“In the name of the Galactic Republic, we-”

A garbled noise comes from under his helmet when the knife soars into your hand, slitting his throat on the way. You waste no time in ducking under the shots that come at you now, calling the second knife to you and getting to work.

There were six of them, but they were not allowed to kill you. You on the other hand…

 _That’s six more reasons for them to lock me up for the rest of my life_ , you think to yourself, sheathing the blades and looking at the mess on the floor.

All the more reason to get off this cruiser _now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to reader's POV! Yay! Is she going to escape, or do you think they'll catch her :o ? Tune in next week to find out ;) (I do not like that smiley face, but it was appropriate here)  
> Last week I woke up to so many sweet comments, I was kind of smiling the whole morning. Even keysmashing or comments like "YES" warm my heart a little :)


	8. Escaping

Your mask is back in its place, finally allowing you to not feel so _exposed_ after basically being naked for the better part of two days - not in the literal sense, of course, though it would have changed very little about how you felt.

There is no time to waste. You know very well that the cruiser is equipped with more than enough security cams for them to easily locate you, so you’ll just have to get out before they’re able to send more troopers. 

With your equipment, it is much easier to avoid the men - scanners, stunning detonators, communication jammers; they all contribute to you making your way to the hangar with relative ease. Once there, you roll two detonators over the ground, sneaking past them before they blow up and cause a distraction that allows you to reach an abandoned starfighter unnoticed.

You try your best to ignore the persistent mental reminder that you haven’t once flown an interceptor in your life as you climb into the ship, hoping to get the hang of it as you go. You don’t have a choice, really, because with every second, the chances of somebody spotting you grow.

“Alright, work with me here,” you mumble, flicking a few familiar looking switches and listening to the engines power up while the buttons and switches on the console light up. “So far so good.”

You may have said that prematurely, because yelling in the hangar tells you that you have just been found, by no other than -

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hastily, you push the central lever forward and begin your very rushed takeoff maneuver, watching out of the corner of your eye how Kenobi himself jumps into a similar Delta-7 interceptor as yours.

“Okay, just steer here, flick this…” The ship soars through the gate of the hangar and you make a hard right to quickly exit the ship’s proximity, tapping away on the keyboard to activate a hyperspace ring to make your escape.

The scanners tell you Kenobi is hot on your tail but you don’t have time to pay any mind to it, speeding towards the ring, your freedom so close and-

The ship swooshes when it docks to the transport ring, and there is a different noise you only care to place once you feel yourself accelerate rapidly and make the jump to hyperspace.

“What you- _No no no no how-_ ”

He has hooked on to your starfighter and let you drag his ship along. _That_ was the noise. 

_Maybe it’ll detach once I drop out._

Aggressively, you flick a few switches and drop back out of hyperspace, just hoping that you won’t happen to fly straight into a celestial body.

You end up dangerously close to a planet that is covered in green, taking up almost the entirety of your field of vision. If you don’t turn back now, you’ll enter its atmosphere, but _dank ferrek,_ Kenobi is right behind you, apparently having survived the dangerous maneuver and now detaching the cable that connects him to you.

You pull the ship up, getting an angle that allows you to fire the first shots at the other starfighter, but they miss due to the ship being much more maneuverable and faster than what you are used to. And admittedly, your piloting skills leave much to be desired. You see that now.

Kenobi spins to avoid the next few shots and zooms past you, you following him as fast as you can, heading for the atmosphere of the forest planet.

“Too noble to return fire, huh?” You mumble to yourself. “You’ll regret that.”

He flies a circle, positioning himself behind your ship, still not shooting. You respond by speeding up, entering the atmosphere.

“ _Caution: imminent overheating,_ ” the mechanical voice warns you.

“I know, I know.” Just a few more seconds, widen the distance just enough for you to…

With all your might you pull the lever backwards, activating the reverse thrusters while turning the starfighter so that it faces your pursuer.

You may not be a good pilot, but you are a _great_ shot and right now? Your target is right in front of you.

The blast hits his left wing, causing the fighter to topple and spin out of control.

“Oh no,” your eyes widen slowly as you realize there is one that you, in your panic, did not account for.

Gravity.

Kenobi’s starfighter is falling and you are almost motionless in the air because of your very smart, very careless stunt.

One of two things can happen in this moment: Either, the other ship blows up before it can hit you, or it comes crashing down on you.

It’s the latter.

Your unprotected head smacks against the control panel, a metallic taste spreading in your mouth while your world fades in and out of a deep black. All you know is you are spinning, spinning and falling.

If you had half a mind you would trigger the ejection seat but your hands feel like they belong to a stranger, so cold and unresponsive.

You black out.

*

The cold is what wakes you up.

More precisely, the cockpit filling up with water.

You splutter and gasp for air once the realization fully hits you, scrambling to unfasten your belts and climb out, blinking away the dizziness.

The cold water clears your head once you are fully emerged in it after having forced open the canopy.

Every muscle of your body is on fire, but you pull through until fresh air finally fills your lungs.

A few swimming strokes and your feet can touch the ground. It’s an arduous feat, but eventually you’ve pulled yourself through the mud onto solid ground, coughing up water and blood alike.

You wipe your forehead and your hand comes back covered in red. A head injury.

A branch snaps a few feet away from you, drawing your attention.

“You,” you hiss. “What a shame you survived this.”

You come to your feet shakily, immediately drawing your blades and lounging at Kenobi; but the movement is awkward and you stagger a little more to the right than intended, fully missing his body while your shoulder collides with a tree.

The Jedi crosses his arms arrogantly. “Are you so sure you want to do that? It seems you may be in need of _help_.”

“Not from you!” You spit, firing your blaster at him while steadying yourself against the tree. Of course he deflects the bolt.

“Then good luck.” He shrugs, leaning against a tree.

“Won’t need it,” you retort, stomping away from him.

“You’re not going to make it out there alone. There is no civilization for miles.”

“Better than your company!” 

He shouts something in return but you have already disappeared too far into the woodland to hear him.

_This is bad._

The further you get away from the Jedi, the better you can think. And the longer you are left with your thoughts, the more do you realize that you are stranded on a foreign planet with no communicator, no ship and no food. You don’t even have water.

As if things weren’t bad enough, the sun is starting to set. Wasn’t it high in the sky just minutes ago?

“One of those rocks,” you grumble. Kessel, too, had had short rotations, but they didn’t compare to this. In minutes, night falls over the planet that is eerily quiet safe for the rustling of leaves when an animal moves or the wind softly blowing through the highest branches of the trees towering all around you.

With nightfall, the cold sets in. Your clothes are still soaked in lake water and without the sun, they cool down in seconds, leaving you shivering under layers of fabric. You’re going to have to make a fire.

 _But that’ll alert Kenobi._

Doesn’t matter. If he had wanted to kill you, he had more than enough opportunities to do so.

You activate a small flashlight on your vambrace whose light temporarily blinds you, something you’ve gotten used to. But the black dots fade quickly by now and you’re able to find the small twigs and dried leaves you need to make a fire.

Before long, you are sat against the trunk of one of the largest trees you’ve ever seen in your life, feeling your clothes slowly dry and tiredly questioning your existence.

 _Can’t things go right just_ once _?_

You have no idea where to go from here. Literally. A part of you wants to believe Kenobi was lying when he said there was no civilization, but another part of you had seen the planet when you were breaching the atmosphere. It was covered in trees, and a larger settlement most likely would have had to cut at least some of them down.

“You should be lucky I am not a predator.”

“I will _cut you down and if it’s the last-”_

You jump up to watch Kenobi emerge from the shadows. 

“Stay away from me! I don’t want your help!”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering. Believe it or not, I don’t like you either.”

“Then _what_ do you want?”

“You are still a prisoner of the Republic. Besides, leaving you to die here would be a waste of valuable information.”

“Heartwarming,” you comment drily. “Well, be prepared to mourn your precious information, because I am getting off this rock and leaving _you_ for dead.”

“Might I ask how you intend to do that?” 

The _bastard_ sounds so amused, you want to punch him in the face. Maybe you will.

“Like I’d tell you of all people!”

He sits down across from you offensively casually, the fire separating you both.

“Listen, we are in the same boat, whether you like it or not. I have to fix the long range communicator on my starfighter, then we can send a distress signal. It’s the only way.” He fixes you with a glare. “And I can either kill you now and repair it myself, or you will be compliant and maybe even help me.”

“ _Or,”_ you drawl, “I can kill _you,_ contact _my_ people and dodge a life in prison.”

“Oh really? So _you_ know how to fix the long range communicator of a Delta-7 Aethersprite-class light interceptor whose exact blueprints are confidential and only accessible to commanding officers of the Galactic Republic?”

“Can’t be that hard if you know how to do it.”

Now you’re just being petty. Unfortunately, Kenobi is right. You have no idea how to fix that communicator. Hell, you don’t even know how to fix a regular one. Technology isn’t among your talents.

“One way or the other, lighting a fire is a bad idea. You’ll attract all sorts of animals.”

“Like you?” 

“Like whatever left _this_ behind _,_ ” he holds up a bone roughly the size of your forearm. You gulp.

“Sorry I didn’t want to freeze to death.”

“Should have thought of that before you made us crash.”

“After you chased me!”

“Because you broke out of your cell and took out several of my men!”

“Maybe if you hadn’t kidnapped me from my home, _Obi, -”_

The lightsaber is by your neck in a heartbeat. 

“You have to stop doing that,” Kenobi hisses warningly. “My self-control has limits, too, and your provocations…”

“What, don’t like being reminded someone you loved was killed? Well, I have some bad news for you-”

The searing blade inches closer to your skin and you choose to shut up.

“When this is over, you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Because I’ll be in prison. Don’t think you can fool me, Jedi.”

For a moment, you hold a silent staring contest. Then he retracts the blade and turns his back to you. 

“If you want any chance of ever getting away from here, you’d do well to follow me now.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that you do. He doesn’t make any mocking comments, no witty remark about you choosing to cooperate after all. All he does is walk back to wherever his ship crashed, which turns out to be not so far from the lake you had the misfortune of landing in.

The ship is in a far better condition than yours was when you woke up in it, though that’s not saying much. You wonder if he used the force to cushion the fall, but you don’t ask.

He seems to have relaxed once more, though the little display of genuine anger did leave an impression on you. One might even call it _respect_.

You discard the thought.

“You sure they will come back for you? Maybe they’re glad to have you off their hands.”

He ignores you.

“I mean, I know I would be. What kind of soldier can stand that constant moral superiority complex you guys have? They must be celebrating right now.”

Is it smart to provoke him further? Probably not. But you have some built up feelings towards this man and none of them are friendly. 

Again, you are met with silence while he kneels down in front of an open panel at the side of the wreckage.

You scoff and shine your light on the surroundings, searching for a place to safely rest. A lower hanging branch that seems sturdy enough to hold your weight catches your eye and you draw your vibroblades. Kenobi whirls around at the sound.

“As much as I’d like to, I didn’t plan on stabbing you in the back.”

“I am receiving very mixed signals about that,” he mumbles.

“I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“Seems about right.”

Wordlessly, you use the knives to climb up the tree until you can pull yourself up and onto the branch. It creaks a little under your weight but otherwise remains quite solid. It’ll do.

Perhaps you should be worried about letting your guard down in front of a Jedi. However, you already know he doesn’t intend to kill you, and his code would most likely prevent him from doing anything dishonorable, including attacking a sleeping person. You think. Hope. Aside from that, not sleeping is hardly an alternative. You haven’t really slept since you were taken from Mandalore, which seems like it was weeks ago. In reality, it can’t have been much longer than two or three days, but time seemed to pass differently since you were separated from your family.

You think of Maul. If he’s alright. If Bo-Katan’s rebels have launched a larger attack on Sundari. And Loa… She must be quite distraught. Even though she is an adult, you two have never been separated for very long ever since you took her in, the longest having been a job you went on with Jango during which you left Loa with Boba on Kamino. But then, she was cared for and safe. Now she is… what? You don’t know and thinking about it makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You look at the sky, slowly allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

How did you get yourself into this mess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Bet you didn't expect to hear from me for another day or so :D I've been very productive and finished writing the chapter earlier than I thought, so I thought I'd be nice and post it already :)  
> Lots of love to you guys, the feedback after I published the previous chapter was so great and it really motivated me <3  
> Also, if there are any really strange errors in this chapter: I used a different type of formatting today, I don't know what I think about it yet ._.


	9. Apart

War seems to follow him like a predator stalking its prey. Ever since he was a child, he was waging a war - against his master, against the Jedi, against himself. He knows it is the doing of the dark side that won’t allow for a moment of peace, constantly creating conflict where there is none to further fuel him. The only times he felt something like serenity were the ones spent with you in private, when he didn’t have an image to uphold or enemies to watch out for. These were the most peaceful moments of his existence, for he knew everything he needed to protect was right there in his arms, as safe as you could be.

Then, of course, there were the times of solitude with his brother. They, too, brought a type of peace, but it was vastly different in that they did not hold the same kind of honesty the times with you did. He knew his brother never chose to join him. He knew the nightsisters made him into something he was not and used him as a puppet, yet the feeling of having a brother, _family_ , was enough to quieten the cries in the back of his mind.

Now both of these people are gone.

He clenches his fists to give his insatiable rage some outlet and allow his mind to focus once more. One person is gone forever, slaughtered by no other than _master._ But the other is still alive, he is certain, separated from him right when he thought they were safe at last. 

Being captured by Sidious was a heavy setback, one that drew out your rescue much longer than he ever wanted. With the civil war on Mandalore and his forces spread thin, Maul feels his hopes diminish. How can he rescue you from the Republic if he doesn’t know your location, doesn’t have the forces to effectively fight them or even pose a threat to them, and now doesn’t even have his brother to confide in for advice?

He is overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and exhausted to his bones, wanting nothing more than to go back to the day in the throne room and alter his decision.

A series of coughs from an alcove in the wall snaps him out of his downward spiral of thoughts. There on the ground sits the last remaining member of his family, even though their relationship has been less than familiar in the past. He may not have been able to protect you the way he swore he would, but he would most certainly care for your sister during your absence.

“Have you found anything?” She asks hoarsely and looks up at him with eyes that hold a sadness that could rival his own internally.

“Nothing,” he admits quietly, studying the miserable state of Loa. 

“What are we going to do?” She whispers, staring at the wall again while hugging her knees.

“I… I’ll get her back. I promise.”

“How?” She doesn’t trust as easily as her usually light demeanor would let on. It reminds him of you.

“If need be, I will board their cruiser alone and fight my way through. I won’t rest until she’s back with us.”

“We don’t even know where she is.”

She is right and it pains him. He hasn’t been able to feel you at all. It isn’t necessarily a sign that you are unwell, but most likely an indicator that you are far, far away from him. Space is vast and the chances of finding a particular cruiser without any information are close to zero. Now, they don’t even have the crime syndicates to get information from.

His shoulders drop and he rubs his temples, struggling to find the right words to console the one entrusted to him. Eventually, he sits down on his knees beside her.

Her force signature is largely different at first, but the more he hones in on it, the more he can feel the similarities in the small swirls of energy surrounding her and you, and it provides him with the tiniest bit of solace.

When he opens his eyes again, he is almost glad she at least doesn’t have your eyes. If she did, it would be all the more painful to see them wide open now, staring at him like the simple act of sitting on the ground defied his nature.

He clears his throat.

“Your sister is the most competent person I know. She broke out of Sundari prison in less than ten minutes, and even the Jedi won’t be able to hold her,” _I hope._ “She’ll find a way to get in touch with us. Either that or we will be notified of the cruiser’s location when they inevitably are forced to make a stop.”

She says nothing in response, the truth that there is nothing they can do for now hanging heavily in the air.

He wishes he could connect with her more, but there is an impermeable power imbalance that divides the air between them. It was always easier when you were around.

“You’re really important to her.”

Her statement is quiet, like it is a secret she is sharing with him.

“Ever since she saw you on Zanbar she’s been different. Before, she used to get this look sometimes, like she was missing something, though she never talked about it. But I get it now.” Her frown turns into a look of earnestness. “She trusts you. And if my sister decides you are worth her trust, then so do I.”

_Trust is a sparse resource to come by these days._

“I will not fail you,” he promises, equally sincere.

However he will achieve that, he doesn’t know. Right now, all he can do is trust in your abilities. All comms are set to the highest sensitivity possible, so if you contact any Mandalorian lines, he will know. 

He walks back to the cockpit and sits down in the copilot chair, staring into the emptiness of space.

Somewhere out there, you are waiting for him. And he will find you.

*

Your hands hold the rifle steady while you hold your breath, not allowing a single sound to disturb the silence of the forest. Your target is right in the center of the scope you’re looking through, now bowing down to feed on the leaves of a bush.

The sound of your shot seems louder than it’s ever been when it breaks through the quiet, but your prey has already fallen to the ground dead before the soundwaves even reach its ears. Satisfied with your work, you lean back on your heels, screwing the scope off your rifle and fastening the weapon on your back once more.

You remain on guard while you head toward what will be your dinner for tonight, and probably tomorrow. You and your companion, whom you did not choose to spend time with, have yet to encounter any predators. The one time you thought you did, the noise came from a branch falling off a rotten tree, but you can never be too careful.

The hoofed creature weighs more than you expected, and by the time you’ve reached the makeshift camp, you’re panting.

“Nice catch,” Kenobi comments, not turning his attention away from the wires he is crouched in front of.

“You’re presuming I’ll share it with you.”

“If I need to hunt for my own food, we’ll be stuck here longer.”

Good point. You say nothing.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to make a fire tonight. The sun is setting again and I can’t work in the dark.”  
“You were the one who said it’d attract predators.” You point out passive-aggressively.

“I didn’t know then that the days would be this short and the nights this long. If we ever want to send out a signal, I’ll have to work at night too.”

“Whatever,” you utter, picking up a few twigs and tossing them into the middle of the small clearing.

The biggest advantage to having an actual fire is that you can finally roast the animal’s meat instead of painstakingly holding every small piece over the small flame produced by the lighter on your vambrace.

Wordlessly, you both chew on the food while sitting in complete opposite corners of the camp. It is no secret that your brief alliance is involuntary and that neither of you are interested in becoming friends along the way, so you don’t even pretend to like each other.

The sound of a twig snapping nearly makes you jump out of your skin and you are on your feet in the blink of an eye.  
“Did you hear that?” You ask under your breath, eyes trying to make out any shapes in the blackness of the woods, the light of the fire hardly enough to reach the edge of the clearing, let alone its surroundings.

“I can feel something… There’s an animal.”

He ignites his lightsaber and for once, you are fine with him wielding the weapon.

“Where is it?” You whisper, slowly drawing your vibroblades.

“It’s… _Down!_ ” 

You don’t drop a second too soon, because the very moment your body comes in contact with the ground, something flies over you with a wild roar, landing only inches from you.

The animal doesn’t turn back around to launch another attack on you, targeting Kenobi in your stead. You can’t see what’s happening, but apparently, its jaw misses him, since when you are back on your feet, Kenobi is still very much alive, holding out his lightsaber defensively and _wow-_

That animal is _massive_. 

Its muscled body is at least fifteen feet long, saliva dripping from fangs the size of your shinbone while its puffy tail whips back and forth angrily.

“Oh dear,” you breathe, watching as its eyes flicker back and forth between you and Kenobi, seemingly undecided on who would make for a better meal.

_Please pick Kenobi, please attack him, I won’t make for a good snack at all, I-_

It hesitates for a moment too long and suddenly lets out an ear-shattering cry when the blue blade of a lightsaber neatly slices one of his legs off. 

Acting faster than your fear, you jump forward and use the opening Kenobi created to bury your blade right where you guess its jugular is, narrowly evading the deadly swipe of its claws and finally reveling in the gurgling sound it emits as it perishes.

For a minute, you’re both just staring at the carcass as a puddle of blood forms around your feet. Then, you squat and remove one of the enormous fangs from its mouth.

“A trophy? Really?” The Jedi sounds positively exasperated.

“I’ll use it to slit your throat once we are off this planet.”

He doesn’t look too worried.

_Good. He won’t see it coming._

“Perhaps keeping the body here will scare off others of its kind,” he ponders. 

“Or they’re sentient enough to feel vengeance,” you finish the thought. “I say we get rid of it.”

“Good luck, then.”

You freeze, examining his barely illuminated face.

“You won’t help me.”

“Correct.”  
“Come on! You want to keep _this_ around because you think it _might_ scare other animals away?”

“They’ll smell it!” He argues.

“It won’t smell like much of anything other than _death_ once it starts to rot,” you retort angrily.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” His entire demeanor has changed to something less contained, less defensive than his usual stance. “After all, _you’re_ the expert when it comes to cold-blooded murder.”

You take a step back in surprise.

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Do you think I want to be stranded with you here?” He hisses. “Well, I don’t. I don’t know how, but the longer I’m around you, the more I feel like the dark side surrounds you.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not even force-sensitive.”

“I know that.” His tone is slightly calmer now. “But I know what I’m sensing.”

Silently, you calculate the expression on his face, fiddling with the ring on your finger.

“Is it possible,” you begin quietly, “for an individual to, I don’t know, plant something inside the mind that would… alter a person?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just answer the question.”

The Jedi sighs, sitting down tiredly a few feet away from you.

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility, though that person would have to be extremely powerful in order to… Wait, are you talking about Maul?”

“What?”

“Maul, is he manipulating you? Is he forcing you to…”

“No, how could you even- I’m talking about the Sith lord!” You shake your head in annoyance. “Remember, the one you and your council are so desperate to find?”

“You suspect he manipulated you?”

You swallow and avert your gaze, feeling fear get a hold of you when you simply think of the hooded man.

“Maybe,” you whisper, then resume with a slightly stronger voice. “I am unable to talk about him. When I do, my body forces me to stop, like he is taking control of my mind… Just thinking about him makes my skin crawl.” You shudder. 

Kenobi narrows his eyes.

“For that, you’d at least have to have met him.”

“I have.”

He looks taken aback.

“That would explain it.” He pauses. “I’m not sure if anything can be done about that. We have healers at the temple but…”

“Forget it.”

He sighs.

“I’ll get back to working on the communicator.”

You just watch him while he dismantles the device further, laying out the single parts on the forest ground tidily.

It is strange - the seething hatred you were once able to feel for the man has faded into a faint dislike. He is still your adversary, of course - it is quite impossible to forget that fact since it’s how you ended up in this situation in the first place, but it feels less personal and more formal.

In a different life you may have respected him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays to everyone who celebrates something right now! I hope you're all making the best out of the current situation while staying safe and healthy!  
> For everyone hoping for a reunion this chapter - My bad. We're not quite there yet :,)  
> As always, comments are much appreciated (I check my inbox like twenty times a day after I post a new chapter simply because receiving them makes me so darn happy) <3


	10. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: nudity, slightly suggestive language,  
> note: For… reasons, this is an alternate universe in which space ships have actual showers with water, not just sonic showers. Also, Maul’s cybernetics are waterproof. I don’t make the rules... wait- I do.

Stars, you hate it here.

Everything, from the endless nights to the lack of clean water and the ever-looming prospect of going to prison increases your motivation to somehow fix the communicator yourself and run off before Kenobi can take you with him, leaving him stranded on the planet.

_For exactly a decade, just to be even._

“It _should_ work,” Kenobi remarks with very apparent annoyance. “Everything is connected and the power source is on.”

“Well, it’s obviously _not_ working.”

“Thank you for your observation.” He drops his hands into his lap, looking quite defeated. And tired.

While you’ve been keeping some structure in your days, he’s been working tirelessly on repairing that communicator. Until he _did_ tire out, occasionally.

Now was one of these occasions.

“I’m losing focus and I can hardly see anything. It’ll be best to continue when the sun comes back up again.”

Which is precisely what you were hoping he’d say, but you still force yourself to make another snide comment. “Maybe it’ll fix itself while you’re resting and we are magically transported off this planet.”

He pays you no mind and heads to what’s become his sleeping spot over the past days - or has it been over a week already?

“I trust you’ll keep watch?”

You just huff, but don’t refuse his request. It is an agreement you’ve come to quite early on when you both realized that the death of one would make the other’s survival significantly less likely. So while he sleeps, you make sure no animals sneak up and attack him, which, apart from the “dinner” incident a few days ago, only happened once, but still rattled him enough to make him remind you of your duty evry time he went to sleep.

Except tonight, you plan on shifting your attention to something completely different. 

You have not, in fact, come to terms with the probable reality that you’ll spend the rest of your days in a prison of the Republic. Instead, you’ve been observing what exactly Kenobi is doing to repair the life-saving device and despite your lack of aptitude in such things, you, too, see that the communicator should - in theory - work. Kenobi is overworked and agitated; it would only be natural for him to miss something.

Something you might be able to catch and use to your advantage.

You remain still where you are until you hear his quiet breaths evening out, indicating he has fallen asleep.

“Kenobi?” You whisper into the silence, a last test to check if he is still conscious.

No response.

Your heart beats fast in your chest, all too aware of how pressing time is. For some reason, this man rarely sleeps more than two hours at a time, which could be partially blamed on you for always nagging at him when he isn’t trying to fix the communicator. But then again, you have the feeling that he usually doesn’t have very different habits.

With the kind of stealth only someone who has been trained in these arts could bring up, you sneak across the clearing to where the source of all your troubles and hope lies on the ground.

The device has been taken out of the starfighters cockpit and thus looks pretty out of place and… unfinished. But you know better, having watched the Jedi dismantle and reassemble every little piece.

The metal glints in the shine of your flashlight as you crouch to be on eye-level with the device. At first glance everything seems to be in order, just like the Jedi remarked, but that is not acceptable. Fixing the cursed thing before Kenobi is your only way to freedom and you will not allow your own incompetence to stand in your way.

So you look again. And again.

You shine light into every little corner, every port, under every wire and in between each panel. Time is passing too quickly, you are aware, and your chances are dwindling.

But then you see it.

Tiny and inconspicuous, something organic - a seed maybe - is blocking one of the loose wires from connecting with its respective port. 

You bite your lip to suppress a victorious exclamation, looking over your shoulder to check if Kenobi is still fast asleep.

Heart thrumming in your ears, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and steady your hand for the task ahead. Cautiously, you lift some of the metal paneling to give you access to the section, fingers weaving through the wires with extra care since many of them are not firmly in place due to the crash and were only pinned to their receptors by Kenobi.

At last, your fingertips graze the disruptive piece of forest that has made it so far into the technology. Slowly, you remove it from its spot, moving the wire back to where it was supposed to connect.

_Now let’s try this._

You turn the power on, holding your breath and praying to whatever force there is out there that it won’t make any noise.

A quiet whir is the only indication that the power is flowing, causing a small smile to creep over your hidden features. The display comes to life, faintly glowing blue. You throw looks over your shoulder every few seconds, hastily pressing the buttons to type in the private comm information Maul and all his commanding warriors kept as a backup for emergencies. You have no idea how many emergencies must have occurred in these past weeks, but you hope your message won’t be drowned out by others. This is the only shot you get.

You pick some coordinates that, if your knowledge of space navigation isn’t misleading you, should be a few miles north of your current location, then sign the message with ‘ _-S ’_.

You stare at the numbers, forcing your mind to absorb them, then you hit _send_ and a series of green lights tells you it at least went out successfully, meaning all you can do now is to hope that it will be received the same way. 

Kenobi is still fast asleep, chest rising and falling steadily. You almost feel sorry for what you’re about to do, but there really aren’t many alternatives. 

You take out a small vial from a pocket in your belt, filling a syringe with it. It’s been a while since you last used it, but you made sure you always have some tranquilizers on you, and now you’re thankful for that.

On your tiptoes, you sneak to Kenobi’s sleeping form, narrowing your eyes to make out the exposed skin on his neck.

The needle is buried in his neck in a matter of seconds and his eyes shoot open in shock and confusion while his hands fly to his neck.

“Why-”

“Nothing personal,” you assure him when his eyelids droop and his words lose coherence.

Normally, this should knock a person out for at least three hours, but you don’t know how a force sensitivity might influence that. One way or another, you should take off now and get as big a headstart as you can. But first, one more thing.

You give the heap of beige robes that is the Jedi knight one more almost regretful look, then you crush the communicator beneath your heel. Can’t risk him calling for Republic forces while you’re still in the area after all, and you’d have no way of taking the device with you, since it’s hooked up to the ship wreckage.

Why you spare his life, you don’t know, and you’d rather not spend too much time thinking about it. Perhaps you _should_ kill him, after all he’s done to Maul, and why your conscience decides to pipe up now of all times will remain a mystery. You have killed people in less honorable ways, but…

“Ugh,” you grunt, finally turning your back on the Jedi and starting your journey north.

*

“Maul! Maul, come here!”

He jerks up, briefly having fallen asleep leaned against the wall. For a second, he fully expects to see your gleaming eyes staring back at him, that’s how familiar the voice is. It takes him a moment to understand that it’s not you, but Loa calling him.

Which is supremely peculiar, because the young woman rarely ever addresses him, let alone command him.

He is out of the room, _your_ room, in a flash, looking over Loa’s shoulder at the message displayed a second later.

Both of his hearts seem to skip a beat.

The message consists of nothing but a set of coordinates, the only indication of its origin the ‘ _-S_ ’ with which it is signed.

S as in… Spectress?

It _must_ be you. There is no one else with access to this line of communication who would send this kind of message.

Loa gapes at the writing. 

“It’s… It’s her, isn’t it? It’s gotta be her, I’m…”

“Set course,” is his only response, sitting down in the copilot’s seat, several scenarios already running through his mind.

“Looks like some type of… forest moon,” She remarks, readying the ship for hyperspace with outstanding speed and routine. You weren’t exaggerating at all when you said she had become a good pilot.

He ponders for a minute. If you are somehow stranded there, they won’t need reinforcement, with their forces stretched thin as it is. But if any threats lurk nearby and he puts your little sister in danger…

He will die by your hand, then. Or his own.

“How long?”

“Estimate of four hours.”

“Very well. I will try to find out what to expect when we arrive there.”

According to his sources, there has been no Republic activity in the system in question over the past month - that’s what he found out after two hours of vehement research. Really, he already knew that after thirty minutes, but you being so close yet so far from him drove him to bury himself in databanks and records by his spies.

His thoughts travel to a darker place.

He doesn’t know what state you’ll be in when he finds you - _if_ he finds you. And even if you’re fine, everything else is far from fine. Mandalore, the crime syndicate and most of all, Savage…

Something on the dresser that takes up most of the cramped space clatters to the floor when he loses control of the chaotic force inside him and he flinches, immediately worrying he broke something of importance to you. After all, he has taken up residence in what used to be your small quarters on your ship, before everything happened, before you joined the Death Watch, before you saw him again.

When you were still living relatively safe, off the Republic’s radars.

Out of Master’s reach.

It’s been torturing him every waking moment to think that you might meet the same end that Savage did. The speculation of what could have been if he hadn’t reentered your life has become a constant in his mind. Because if he ever has to see the life fade out of your eyes, the way he saw the nightsister magick leave Savage when he exhaled his last breath, he isn’t sure he could forgive the galaxy. He vows to himself, already vowed to himself few days after he first laid eyes on you, that he will do _anything_ to keep that fiery soul safe.

His fingers run over the cold piece of metal that has fallen, curiously examining it. No, not normal metal, _beskar_. There are letters forged into it, but they look like traditional Mando’a scripture, which he is still unpracticed in reading.

He contemplates putting it into the uppermost drawer, lest it get lost during more daring flight maneuvers, but he hesitates. He’s never opened any of the drawers, despite the very persistent curiosity he felt. The last he’d want is to invade your privacy; you hadn’t even consented to him sleeping in your private space (although he doubts you would mind after he has literally slept _with_ you).

Maul makes up his mind and pulls the drawer open, not intending to even look, but his gaze still gets caught.

He expected to find clothes, maybe, or, knowing you, weapons. What he finds instead is a collection of… trinkets. 

It’s not new to him that you have a tendency to collect items, sometimes out of sentiment, sometimes as a trophy. He didn’t realize you kept them so meticulously stored.

It’s quite endearing, he thinks.

Some of the items he recalls you talking about, but others seem entirely random. His eyes linger on a piece of flimsiplast that looks like a child has drawn on it. 

He is tempted to take it out and hold it into the light, but quickly realizes that it would go against his original decision _not_ to pry.

There is so much personal history collected in that small space. Dozens of untold stories, so many parts of your life that he missed.

He won’t rest until he knows you’ll still be able to tell them.

*

Oddly enough, you miss Kenobi. More precisely, you miss his ability to sense danger before it has reached you.

Every little noise startles you, every swish of wind making your heart stop and you increase your speed a little.

By now, you’re nearly running through the woods, less than half a mile away from the coordinates you chose.

Chances are, he has woken up by now. And you’re not stupid; you know it’ll be easy for him to track you down when there is no civilization around. From what your understanding of the force is, he should be able to sense your force signature from a larger distance when there is nothing else to disrupt it. That also means that he will be hot on your tail, so whoever shows up to rescue you better _hurry_.

With a heavy heart, you turn off your flashlight and lean against a tree while you remove your mask for better air supply and allow your eyes to adjust. It still takes so kriffing long, you wonder if that’ll ever change.

If Kenobi finds you first, it won’t make much of a difference.

You get moving again, slower but also less of a beacon in the dark.

The trees start coming in more sparsely now, until you can actually see farther than twenty feet without trees blocking your view. This allows you to pick up speed again and thus make up for the darkness that is slowing you down, until the landscape is so open that you’re actually running now.

And that’s when you hear them.

Branches cracking somewhere behind you. 

_Probably just the wind. Keep going._

The dull thud of feet hitting the ground makes your breath catch in your throat.

_So maybe he_ did _wake up earlier than anticipated._

You whirl around, seeing nothing but his black silhouette and desperately wishing for a lightsaber, which you - unwisely - have sworn off after the Naboo incident. That, and running around wielding a lightsaber wasn’t exactly the level of subtlety you were going for at the time.

But now, you could really use it.

“I spared your life!” You yell.

“And destroyed my only way away from here,” he responds, sounding almost hurt as he makes slow steps towards you. You take just as many backwards.

Something in the sky beyond him catches your eye and suddenly, the situation looks different.

“I’ve got to look out for myself first,” you argue. “Surely, you understand that.”

“You know I can’t let you go.”

“I do,” you say serenely, taking a deep breath, then whirling around to make a run for it.

You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he is following you and, even worse, gaining on you.

The small headstart you got, combined with the distance between you two in the first place isn’t nearly enough, even though you are in great shape and a truly fast runner.

The ship you spotted earlier now flies over your head, approaching the ground and you could laugh and cry at the same time. It’s not just any ship, it’s _your_ ship. Your home, and aboard, you hope, your family.

It doesn’t touch the ground, but it flies low enough to be accessible from the ground while slowing to a speed that _should_ allow for you to jump on, if you could only run a _little_ faster.

Damn, ten years ago this would have been easier.

The blast door in the back, only about twenty feet away from you, slides open, revealing a figure that even in the dark you can make out to be…

_Maul_.

He extends his hand and you instantly know what he wants you to do.

So, you take a deep breath and _jump_.

The moment your feet leave the ground you feel the tug of the force pulling you to the zabrak while your own hand reaches forward and you fly through the air, until your hand finally reaches Maul’s.

You are not safe yet, still hanging from the edge of the ship when you suddenly feel a different pull on one of your ankles. Your eyes widen in shock and you try to tell Maul that it’s Kenobi, he is pulling you back, but all that you manage is a terrified shriek when your hand almost slips out of his at a particularly strong pull backwards.

_Not this time, Kenobi._

Your determination sets in and you look down to see Kenobi standing still, arms extended to manipulate the force. With your one free hand, you reach for your blaster, aiming and-

The hold on your ankle abruptly loosens and you are yanked on board at once, the blast door sliding shut immediately, drowning out the deafening sound of wind.

You are panting, sprawled out on the floor, not even realizing that _you did it_.

“Hyperspace, as soon as possible,” you distantly hear Maul say, but the thrumming of your heart is too loud to properly hear his voice, until he somehow sits you up and…

Embraces you. 

Warm fingers run through your messy hair, soft murmurs that you can’t quite understand coming from right next to your ear.

“I’m filthy,” you protest weakly, half-heartedly trying to free yourself from his hold but he only holds on tighter and at last you melt into the affection, burying your face in his neck.

“Is Loa…?”

“In the cockpit,” he instantly calms your worries and you sigh happily. For a moment, everything is alright.

“What did I miss?” You eventually muster up the courage to ask.

His grip tightens so much you can feel his fingertips dig into your hip and you immediately know something bad happened.

“It was… Master. He killed Savage.”

Your heart sinks, the previous relief replaced by a dark type of sadness. There is anger and, most dominantly, fear.

The Sith lord doesn’t intend on letting Maul off, which by extension also means there is a target on everyone he surrounds himself with.

You can’t even find words to console him, only taking in a shaky breath against his skin and whispering, "I'm sorry."

"He's free now."

Eventually, you find the strength to get up, tiredly patting over to the cockpit.

“Hey.”  
Loa presses a few last buttons, then jumps up and crushes you in a tight hug.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

“You know me better than that,” you retort mildly.

“I suppose so,” she sighs, holding you at an arm’s length. “You need a shower,” she assesses, plucking a leaf from your hair.

Self-consciously you run a hand through the tangles, then look down at your muddy clothes.

“I agree.”

Maul waits for you when you leave the cockpit, immediately taking your hand as if to reassure himself that you are truly there.

“Missed me?” You joke half-heartedly, doing nothing to hide the way the tension seems to melt from your body at the touch.

“Every minute,” he answers earnestly, not a hint of a joke in his voice.

“Come with me, then,” you offer, making your way to the refresher and pulling him along. As expected, he follows you all too willingly, thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

You don’t even bother undressing all the way before getting under the water stream, suddenly realizing how much you’ve been longing for it. While your clothes soak, the water pooling around your feet turns a muddy brown as the dirt from the forest is finally washed off.

Maul steps in the small shower behind you, holding a hand into the falling water.

“That’s cold,” he states.

“Not for me, it’s not.” You eye his frown. “But we can turn the temperature up.”

The heat does feel good, and not much later you finally attempt to peel off the remaining layers of clothing. Red tattooed hands come to your aid fast and within seconds, your skin is completely exposed, the stress of the past weeks running down the drain along with the dirt and… blood?

You bring a hand up to touch your forehead at the same time that a scowl makes its way on Maul’s face.

“Kenobi,” he growls, but you shake your head.

“That’s from when I crashed the starfighter.” You examine your bloodied fingers with moderate interest. “I think it’s healed already, that’s just dried blood coming off.”

He huffs, lightly running a finger over the area on your face.

“Any other injuries?” His eyes roam your body, not in a sexual, but in a concerned manner.

“None I can think of,” you sigh as he gathers soap in his hands, closing your eyes for a moment as the warm water runs over your face. When you don’t hear another noise from Maul, you open your eyes again, only to find him staring at you with something like bewilderment in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

He responds by crashing his lips into yours, expressing so many emotions through his actions that he otherwise can’t find the words for. You very nearly fall at the suddenness of it, but his arms are wrapped around you in a heartbeat, pressing you into his chest and giving you the skin-to-skin contact you’ve been missing so terribly.

Your eyes water as emotions overcome you, the relief, the sorrow, the uncertainty and… guilt.

When you break apart, his are shining in a similar way.

You lean against the weapons locker, facing the ceiling while you let the details of your situation soak in. The havoc that was wreaked on Mandalore by the resistant Mandalorians, the coming and going of the crime families, and the looming threat of Sidious’ grand plan finally coming together.

“I have a suggestion,” you begin slowly. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Go on.”

“The Jedi are not our main enemy anymore, if what you foresee comes true.” You recall him talking about the envisioned destruction of the Jedi order, something that Sidious has been plotting for a long time. “If we give them the right tools to do so, it’ll be them who need to fight him, not you. Not any of us.” Your eyes dart to the cockpit where your sister is holed up.

“Tools, such as… knowledge?” He touches his chin the way he always does when he mulls over an idea.

“Sidious is but one man. He only thrives on secrecy, so if we-”

“A Jedi will never cooperate with a _Sith_.” He snarls. “Their self-righteousness wouldn’t allow it.”

“Maybe not.” You sigh with exhaustion. “All I know is that the better equipped the Jedi, the higher the chance of them actually defeating Sidious before it’s too late. And that’s why I have another proposition.”

“What is it?”

“We make a small transmission to the Republic fleet, sending them the same coordinates I sent you.”

“You’re trying to save Kenobi?” He doesn’t sound angered, he sounds… surprised.

“As much as I dislike him, he _is_ one of their more capable knights, and it’s become pretty obvious he and his padawan are quite invested in uncovering Sidious’ identity.” 

You are astounded he even considers the idea. 

“Also, helping him could be interpreted as a show of good faith. Might get them off our back for some time, until we figure out _who_ to fight,” you add.

For a minute, he remains silent. Then, his arm is wrapped around your waist and his lips brush over your temple.

“I trust your judgment,” he mumbles. “Do what you believe is right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOO, after a two week delay, I have elected to post once more... my bad. In the next 2-4 weeks I’d like to edit and improve the older chapters because I’m not 100% happy with the writing in them anymore, so because of that there won’t be another update during that time. Don’t worry though, I’m not done yet, the story will go on - just after a short break :,)  
> Also, I've been terrible at replying to comments. There is absolutely no reason for that, just that I was reaaaally invested in some books and kind of put everything else on hold. My screen time has never been lower.   
> Lots of love to you all, I hope this'll be a good year for everyone <3


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